uc 


-HBlrS 


B    ^ 


loe  ii'^ 


OUR  MANIFOLD  NATURE 


STORIES  FROM  LIFE 


BY 

SARAH   GRAND 

AUTHOR    OF 
IDEALA,    A    STUDY    FROM    LIFE,    THE    HEAVENLY    TWINS,    ETC. 


NEW     YORK 

D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1894 


CoPTRiGHT,  1893,  1894, 
By   D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 


Electrotyped  and  Printed 

AT  THE  APPLETON  PrESS,  U.  S.  A. 


PREFACE. 


These  stories  are  simp]y  what  they  profess  to  be — 
studies  from  life.  They  appeared  originally  in  magazines, 
some  of  them  in  a  more  or  less  unsatisfactory  condition, 
having  been  mutilated  for  convenience  of  space,  or  in 
order  to  remove  from  them  any  idea  of  unusual  import. 
Successful  magazines  dig  deep  grooves  for  themselves,  and 
anything  that  does  not  fit  into  these  is  shunned  as  dan- 
gerous. Once  established,  they  become  for  the  most  part 
unprogressive,  neither  leading  nor  following,  but  continu- 
ing to  offer  us  the  kind  of  thing  that  pleased  our  parents. 
Consequently  they  cease  to  appeal  to  us,  and  finally  expire 
in  a  resolute  effort  to  resist  any  attempt  to  induce  them  to 
air  the  grievances,  touch  upon  the  interests,  or  meet  the 
special  demands  generally  of  the  present  generation. 
Diffident  young  writers,  full  of  the  force  which  is  carry- 
ing us  onward  and  upward,  and  cruelly  perplexed  be- 
tween what  they  perceive  and  which  those  in  authority 
insist  that  they  ought  to  be  perceiving,  crawl  along  in 
them  on  feet  of  lead  until  the  restraint  becomes  unbear- 
able, and  then  they  break  out  on  their  own  account  in 
new  directions,  and  their  success  proves  to  be  the  death- 
blow of  their  oppressors.     The  old  order  changeth  in  this 


iv  PREFACE. 

as  in  all  else.  We  arc  growing  and  learning  to  walk,  and 
must  have  room  to  tumble  about  in ;  if  those  who  are  left 
to  find  out  for  themselves  how  to  do  it  have  the  most 
falls,  they  are  also  the  strongest  eventually.  There  is 
more  to  be  done  than  our  ancestors  did,  and  more  to  find 
out  than  they  ever  discovered.  Many  thanks  to  them, 
nevertheless,  for  all  that  we  owe  them. 

Fiction  has  always  been  held  to  be  at  its  best  when  it 
was  true  to  life.  To  be  true  to  life  seemed,  therefore,  to 
be  the  noblest  ambition  of  an  author,  and  this  has  led  in 
our  day  to  an  effort  to  go  beyond  the  mere  semblance  and 
grasp  the  reality  of  life.  But  those  who  try  it  are  immedi- 
ately met  with  the  objection  that  their  work  is  inartistic. 
Fiction  is  found  fault  with  because  it  is  not  fact,  and  fact 
because  it  is  not  fiction.  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  man, 
the  boy,  and  the  donkey.  Personally,  I  'think  the  only 
art  worth  cultivating  is  the  art  to  be  interesting.  If  a 
book  is  readable,  it  is  churlish  to  object  to  it  because  it 
has  not  been  made  so  by  methods  which  succeeded  in 
somebody  else's  work.  To  "  make  school "  is  doubtless 
gratifying  to  an  author  as  a  proof  of  success ;  but  all  that 
imitators  make  is  much  monotony  for  the  reader.  A 
novel,  it  seems  to  me,  should  be  like  life  itself — an  unfold- 
ing, and  not  a  regular  structure ;  but  at  the  same  time  I 
recognise  that  in  many  moods,  and  to  many  minds  only 
artificial  regularity  is  acceptable.  That  form  was  the 
outcome  of  a  day  which  we  have  not  yet  done  with. 

But  there  is  one  thing  which  strikes  me  as  significant, 
and  it  may  be  instructive,  with  regard  to  these  little 
essays  of  my  own  in  the  new  direction,  and  that  is  that 
it  is  not  the  embellishments,  but  the  literal  facts,  which 


PREFACE.  y 

have  been  attacked  by  the  critics  as  "  melodramatic"  and 
"  altogether  impossible  " — as,  for  instance,  in  The  Yellow 
Leaf.  There  is  no  fiction  whatever  in  Evangeline's  story. 
It  began,  continued,  and  ended  exactly  as  described,  yet 
nearly  every  one  has  fallen  foul  of  the  conclusion  as 
being  improbable,  especially  for  the  reasons  which  are 
shown  to  have  led  up  to  it.  This  would  seem  to  in- 
dicate that,  in  order  to  be  convincing,  a  study  from  life 
must  be  a  garnished  interpretation  rather  than  a  literal 
translation.  An  actor  has  to  paint  his  face  to  make  it 
look  natural  in  the  glare  of  the  footlights,  and  some 
analogous  process  must  be  resorted  to  by  the  writer  who 
would  produce  the  effect  of  life  in  his  work.  We  are  ac- 
customed to  the  false  and  conventional  in  this  branch  of 
art  as  we  are  to  the  distorted  figure  of  a  fashionable 
woman,  and,  consequently,  when  truth  and  nature  are 
presented  to  us,  they  strike  us  at  first  as  strange ;  we  do 
not  recognise  them,  and  we  do  not  like  them. 

These  studies  were  as  experiments,  and  they  now  ap- 
pear for  the  first  time,  unmutilated  as  well  as  carefully 
revised. 


Fehruary,  ISO4. 


Sarah  Grand. 


o^ 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Eugenia 1 

The  Yellow  Leaf 53 

Janey,  a  Humble  Administrator 148 

boomellen 181 

Kane,  a  Soldier  Servant        .        ,        .        .        ,        .        ,  204 

Ah  Man 221 


EUGENIA. 
I. 

I  AM  a  humble  artist,  studying  always  in  the  life- 
school  of  the  world,  blinking  nothing  that  goes  to  the 
making  or  marring  of  life,  more  especially  to  the  marring 
of  it,  for  if  we  would  make  it  lovely,  we  must  know  ex- 
actly the  nature  of  the  diseases  that  disfigure  it,  and 
experiment  upon  them  until  we  discover  the  great  specific 
which,  when  properly  applied,  shall  remedy  all  that.  And 
it  so  happened  that,  in  order  to  be  accurate  in  every  detail 
of  a  work  upon  which  I  was  then  engaged,  I  required  to 
study  human  nature,  as  it  appears  behind  the  scenes,  at 
the  time  of  night  when  that  part  of  a  theatre  is  most 
characteristically  crowded  with  the  company  in  costume, 
and  such  visitors  as  are  admitted.  A  brother  of  mine 
made  the  necessary  arrangements  for  me,  and  was  so 
good  as  to  escort  me  himself,  the  leading  managers,  to 
whom  he  had  explained  my  difficulty,  having  most  cour- 
teously allowed  me  free  access  for  my  purpose.  I  have 
only  to  mention  here  one  of  the  numerous  little  items  of 
interest  I  noted  at  the  time.  It  happened  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  enterprise  when  everything  was  new  and 
strange,,  and  while  the  incident  itself,  although  trivial,  re- 
mains distinctly  impressed  upon  my  mind,  the  surround- 


Copyright,  1893,  l)y  I).  Api.leton  iS:  Co. 


2  EUGENIA. 

ing  details,  doubtless  because  of  their  number  and  nov- 
elty, escape  me  for  the  most  part,  as  in  a  well-balanced 
picture  when  all  is  unobtrusive,  save  the  main  idea ;  but 
I  remember  that  we  were  wedged  in  a  crowd  of  theatrical 
characters  variously  and  even  fantastically  attired  as  if 
for  a  fancy-dress  ball,  and  that  the  clatter  of  tongues  was 
bewildering.  Eauk  odours  of  a  variety  of  scents  saluted 
one's  afflicted  nostrils  on  all  sides.  This  way  white  rose 
flowed  from  a  fan,  which  a  much-bedizened,  vulgarly 
handsome  daughter  of  the  people  was  waving  over  a 
repulsively  dissipated-looking  young  man  in  evening  dress 
who  was  sprawling  disrespectfully  on  a  couch.  On  the 
other  side  patchouly  polluted  the  air,  and  wood  violet  on  a 
nymph  in  front  of  us  was  waging  war  with  the  whisky  and 
eau  de  Cologne  which  w^ere  being  wafted  abroad  by  an  old 
unvenerable  man  who  was  essaying  to  ogle  with  dim  v/atery 
eyes,  and  to  simper  with  loose  lips  that  were  too  tremulous 
to  respond  simultaneously  to  the  weak-willed  intention. 
Every  affectation  of  society  was  apparent  about  us,  but 
coarsened  into  caricature.  Flirtations  were  more  evident, 
and  grosser  in  the  conduct  of  them,  than  in  Belgravia,  and 
powder,  paint,  and  paste-diamonds  were  flaunted  more  con- 
spicuously. Tight  lacing  was  also  carried  to  a  more  painful 
extent.  Women's  voices  shrilled  loudly,  the  cockney  accent 
predominating.  Most  of  the  things  said  struck  me  as  being 
disagreeably  personal  and  flippant,  when  not  actually  coarse 
and  rude.  The  laughter  was  noisy  and  incessant,  but  mirth- 
less, and  although  there  was  plenty  of  excitement  in  the  as- 
sembly, there  was  obviously  little  if  any  genuine  pleasure, 
and  as  to  happiness,  I  could  detect  no  line,  even  on  the 
youngest  face,  to  indicate  it.    The  predominant  expression 


EUGENIA.  3 

was  one  of  anxiety,  only  relieved  in  the  more  callous  by  mo- 
ments of  sensual  apathy.  As  a  whole  the  scene  remains  im- 
pressed upon  my  mind  as  an  unlovely  travesty  of  much  to 
which  one  becomes  accustomed  in  society,  but  it  possessed 
the  attraction  of  repulsion  for  me,  and  I  could  have  stood 
there  studying  all  night. 

My  brother  knew  many  of  the  people  present,  but  I 
only  saw  one  man  with  whom  I  was  personally  acquainted, 
and  it  so  happened  that  I  knew  him  well,  for  it  was  Brink- 
hampton,  the  eldest  son  of  a  near  neighbour  of  ours  in  my 
childhood.     The  two  families  had  always  been  intimate. 

He  was  standing  talking  to  some  woman  just  behind 
me,  and  I  recognised  liis  voice  before  I  saw  him. 

"I'm  sure  your  waist's  smaller  than  Kitty  Green's," 
he  was  saying  quite  earnestly. 

"  Aow,  nao,  you  flatter  me,"  the  lady  responded  nasally. 
"  Only  I  daown't  tight  laice." 

There  was  a  little  pause,  then  Brinkhamptou  asked : 
"  What  are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  My  fan.     I  laid  it  on  the  taible." 

"  Here  it  is.  Let  me  have  the  pleasure  of  fanning 
you." 

"  Pleasure,  indeed  !  Aow,  I  saiy  !  What  do  you  want, 
I'd  like  to  knaw  ?    With  those  sheep's  eyes  !     I'm  up  to 

you "    And  so  on  all  up  the  gamut  of  the  cheapest 

inanity,  silly,  sillier,  and  silliest. 

I  turned  to  look  at  the  lady,  expecting  to  see  some- 
thing so  satisfying  to  the  eye  of  man  that  no  other  sense 
asked  for  anything,  but  she  struck  me  as  being  a  joyless 
antique,  largely  proportioned,  well-preserved,  and  still 
able  to  aSect  a  sprightliness  she  must  have  been  far  from 


4  EUGKNIA. 

feeling  spontaneously  at  that  time  of  life.  "  That  was 
the  celebrated  Sylvia,"  my  brother  told  me  as  we  came 
away. 

"  Wherein  lietli  the  charm  of  her  fatal  fascination  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  In  irrcstige^  which  lasts  longer  than  anything,"  he 
answered. 

Out  of  the  crowd  and  heat  into  the  open  air  was  an 
intoxicating  transition,  so  great  was  the  relief  of  it.  I 
stood  for  some  minutes  on  the  pavement  inhaling  deep 
draughts  of  the  freshness,  and  feeling  as  if  I  could  never 
rid  myself  of  the  fever  and  fumes  of  that  tawdry  place. 

II. 

The  next  night,  driving  home  late  from  some  enter- 
tainment, I  was  forced  by  a  block  in  the  traffic  to  sit  for 
some  time  at  the  entrance  to  a  popular  "  Theatre  of  Va- 
rieties." The  lights  blazed  brilliantly,  streaming  across 
the  pavement  and  into  the  carriage  so  that  I  could  have 
read  a  book  had  I  had  one,  and  any  of  my  friends  seeing  me 
there  must  have  recognised  me.  The  thought  was  amus- 
ing, particularly  as  I  happened  to  be  alone,  but  it  was 
also  a  trifle  embarrassing,  because  the  carriage  I  was  in 
belonged  to  friends  with  whom  I  was  staying  for  the  mo- 
ment, austere  people,  whose  livery  was  somewhat  conspicu- 
ous, and  as  they  were  well-known  to  the  public,  there  was 
always  a  chance  of  some  enterprising  reporter  giving  my 
friends  the  credit  in  the  next  day's  news  of  having  spent 
their  evening  at  this  garish  resort.  There  was  a  fiendish 
racket  going  on  all  about  me.     In  the  road,  men,  women 


EUGENIA. 


and  policemen,  cabs,  carts  and  carriages,  seemed  to  be  in- 
extricably mixed,  as  if  they  had  been  performing  some 
mystical  rite  with  which  they  were  imperfectly  acquainted, 
the  consequence  of  the  confusion  being  great  diilerences 
of  opinion,  and  eager,  angry,  incessant,  loud  disputes.  I 
"w^as  busy  looking  out  on  that  side,  improving  my  knowl- 
edge of  the  vulgar  tongue  by  making  notes  in  my  own 
mind  of  any  peculiar  expressions  used,  when  I  heard 
myself  addressed  by  name  through  the  window  on  the 
"  Theatre  of  Varieties  "  side  of  me,  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment recognised  Brinkhampton. 

"  I  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken,"  he  was  saying, 
"  however  much  I  may  be  surprised  by  your  choice  of  a 
place  of  amusement." 

"  From  whence  come  you?"  I  answered  tranquilly. 

"From  these  same  halls  of  light,"  he  replied,  indicat- 
ing the  gaudy  place  behind  him  ;  "  and  to  tell  you  the 
truth,"  he  added,  in  a  worn-out,  weary,  satiated  way — "  I 
am  sick  of  all  that.  I'm  utterly  used  up.  I  think  it's 
time  for  me  to  reform  and  marry.  Can  you  recommend 
me  to  somebody  who  would  make  a  nice  wife  ?  I  suppose 
it  wouldn't  do  for  me  to  ask  you  for  a  seat  in  your  car- 
riage at  this  time  of  night?"  This  was  said  tentatively, 
but  I  crushed  the  aspiration  with  a  decided  shake  of  my 
head.  Men  have  to  have  reputations  nowadays,  and  I 
should  have  been  sorry  to  have  been  seen  alone  with 
Brinkhampton  under  any  circumstances — poor  fellow — 
although  I  had  known  him  all  my  life.  "  I  know  you 
are  mighty  particular,"  he  went  on,  disconsolately,  "  but 
I  assure  you  I'm  thoroughly  in  earnest  this  time.  Let 
me  come  and  tell  you  all  about  it." 


6  EUGENIA. 

As  he  blocked  up  the  whole  of  the  window,  the  fact 
that  he  wus  reeking  of  tobacco  and  stimulants  could  not 
fail  to  impress  me  unpleasantly,  and  his  somewhat  bloated 
features,  inflamed  eyes,  and  dissipated  appearance  gener- 
ally rendered  him  still  more  unattractive  to  my  fastidious 
mind ;  so,  to  get  rid  of  him,  I  told  him  that  I  should  be 
"  at  home "  next  day,  and  if  he  came  early  enough,  he 
might  find  me  alone  for  a  few  minutes.  I  quite  expected 
he  would  have  no  recollection  of  the  engagement,  but  to 
my  surprise  he  arrived,  and  rather  sooner  too  than  was 
altogether  convenient. 

It  was  evident  from  the  way  he  was  dressed,  that  the 
matter  had  cost  him  some  thought;  but  no  care  could 
conceal  the  "  used-up  "  look  about  his  eyes,  nor  produce  a 
deceptive  tinge  of  health  on  the  opaque  sallow  of  his 
cheeks.  The  effort  had  not  been  wanting,  his  valet  hav- 
ing obviously  done  his  best,  but  it  is  only  a  fresh  and 
healthy  skin  that  really  takes  paint  and  powder  well ;  the 
transparency  once  lost,  artificial  attempts  to  restore  it 
show  on  the  surface  like  a  light  layer  of  dust  on  standing 
water.  But  he  was  a  3'oung  man  still,  and  a  good-looking 
one  too,  of  the  big  coarse-moustached  type,  a  typical 
guardsman,  broad  shouldered,  and  so  apparently  strong 
that  a  casual  acquaintance  would  never  have  suspected 
flabby  muscular  tissue  discounted  by  alcohol.  He  had  a 
pleasant  voice,  and  his  manners  were  easy  and  unaffected, 
if  a  trifle  too  candidly  self-complacent.  With  the  old- 
fashioned  sort  of  society- woman  he  was  a  favourite,  and  I 
confess  I  liked  him  well  enough  in  a  way  myself,  but 
then  I  had  acquired  the  habit  of  liking  him  when  we  were 
children  together. 


EUGENIA.  7 

"Well,  and  so  you  are  inclined  to  marry  and  settle?" 
I  said,  as  soon  as  we  were  seated. 

"  Not  merely  inclined,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  quite  de- 
termined. I've  had  a  good  time,  don't  you  know,  rather 
too  much  of  a  good  time  if  anything,  and  now  I  feel  it 
would  be  better  for  me  to  settle ;  and  I  want  something 
nice  and  young  and  fresh,  with  money,  for  a  wife,  so  that 
I  may  repair  all  my  errors  at  once ;  some  one  who  has 
lived  all  lier  life  at  the  back  of  beyond,  never  been  any- 
where nor  seen  anyone  to  speak  of,  and  is  refreshingly 
unsophisticated  enough  to  mistake  the  first  man  who  pro- 
poses to  her  for  an  unsullied  hero  of  romance.  And  I 
mean  to  be  that  man,  don't  you  see." 

"  But  where  do  I  come  into  this  delightfully  delicate, 
original  plan?"  I  drily  inquired. 

"  Well,  you  go  a  good  deal  to  country  houses,"  he 
answered,  with  what  might  have  been  either  a  dash  of 
diffidence  or  a  shade  of  anxiety  in  his  manner.  "  You 
must  have  met  the  kind  of  girl  I  want — good-looking, 
you  know,  with  an  ivory  skin  and — and  money.  Don't 
jeer  at  me.     I'm  in  earnest." 

I  composed  my  countenance,  and  took  time  to  reflect. 
How  to  decline  to  help  him  without  hurting  his  feelings 
was  the  difficulty.  There  used  to  be  a  superstition  in 
society,  that  a  man  could  at  any  time  repair  the  errors  of 
his  youth  by  making  a  good  match,  and  there  are  women 
still  who  will  introduce  "  used-up  "  brothers  and  so  on  to 
their  girl  friends  as  eligible  husbands ;  but  I  belong  to 
the  party  of  progress  myself,  and  would  not  under  any 
circumstances  have  done  such  a  thing.  I  had  not  the 
courage  of  my  opinions,  however,  at  that  time  to  the  ex- 


8  EUGENIA. 

tent  of  saying  so  bluntly,  and  therefore  I  "  smiling  passed 
the  question  by ; "  but  as  I  had  not  absolutely  refused,  he 
chose  to  take  it  that  I  would  help  him  if  I  could,  and 
thereupon  he  thanked  me  with  effusion,  and  I  could  see 
that  he  was  more  than  satisfied,  for  it  was  as  if  a  load  of 
care  had  been  lifted  from  his  mind  and  left  him  lighter- 
hearted. 

III. 

That  summer  saw  me  seated  one  afternoon  in  a  shady 
nook  on  a  cliff  in  the  north,  overlooking  the  sea.  Behind 
me  there  was  a  lovely  stretch  of  country,  hill  and  dale, 
field  and  forest,  with  the  gold  of  ripening  grain,  the 
scarlet  glint  of  intrusive  poppies,  and  the  manifold  tints 
of  green,  shooting  to  gray,  and  even  to  yellow  and  brown 
in  the  woods,  where  the  earlier  trees  were  already  assum- 
ing a  dash  of  their  autumn  bravery.  Before  me  was  the 
mildly  murmurous  unrest  of  rippling  wavelets,  bursting 
with  incessant  merriment  as  they  feigned  to  fly  from  the 
pursuit  of  the  incoming  tide,  which  flowed  on  always 
swiftly  over  the  long  level  reaches  of  the  sandy  shore. 
It  was  a  scene  to  soothe  and  enlighten,  for  such  solitudes 
people  the  mind  with  goodly  companies  of  glad  ideas, 
and  just  and  vigorous  thoughts.  My  meditations  were 
not  long  uninterrupted  that  day,  however,  for  in  the  most 
absorbing  midst  of  them  I  was  aroused  by  the  surprised 
enunciation  of  my  own  name,  and,  on  looking  up,  I  dis- 
covered Brinkhampton  staring  at  me. 

"  Well !  "  I  ejaculated.     "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
"  Potting  rabbits,"  he  answered,  sententiously.   "  I  have 
taken  the  shooting." 


EUGENIA.  9 

"  You  mean  to  be  in  time  for  it,  apparently." 

"  Oh,  I  thought  I'd  come  and  amuse  myself  with  the 
rabbits.  It's  the  fresh  air  I  want  really,  you  see.  My 
nerves  have  all  gone  to  pieces.  I  want  to  be  out  of  sin- 
ner's ways  for  awhile,  and  I  knew  fellows  wouldn't  come 
bothering  much  before  September.  I've  taken  the  shoot- 
ing with  leave  to  live  about  here  for  six  months  if  it  suits 
me.  In  the  absence  of  a  lord,  the  lady  of  the  manor  lets 
the  right,  I  understand." 

"Do  you  know  her ? "  I  asked. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  not  that  i)leasure.  Do 
you?" 

"  I  am  staying  with  her  now." 

Then  there  was  a  pause,  during  which  Brinkhampton 
carefully  examined  his  gun,  lock,  stock,  and  barrel.  "  It's 
a  nice  place,"  he  remarked  at  last,  glancing  about  him 
comprehensively.     "  Is  the  lady  as  goodly  as  her  acres?" 

"  Has  she  '  an  ivory  skin  '  do  you  mean  ?  You  may 
judge  for  yourself,  for  behold  her  approach  down  yonder 
forest  glade,  hatless,  gloveless,  robed  in  white,  with  a 
purple  parasol  shielding  the  burnished  brightness  of  her 
lovely  tresses  from  the  too  ardent  kisses  of  the  sun." 

Brinkhampton  stared  with  interest. 

"  She's  quite  young  ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Twenty-one  exactly,"  I  replied. 

He  was  about  to  say  something  else,  but  Eugenia  had 
come  up  to  us  by  this  time,  and  I  hastened  to  present 
them  to  each  other. 

"  It  is  you  who  have  taken  my  shooting  oif  my  hands 
this  year,  I  suppose,"  Eugenia  said,  glancing  at  his  gun. 

"  So  I  have  just  learnt,"  he  answered,  looking  into  her 


10  EUGENIA. 

sweet  grave  face  with  undisgiiised  interest  and  admira- 
tion. 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  it  worth  your  while,"  she  said. 
*'  The  coverts  are  pretty  well  stocked  this  year,  I  believe. 
Where  have  you  put  up  ?  " 

"  At  the  village  inn,"  he  answered  with  a  grimace. 

"  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  then  you  must  be  uncom- 
fortable. When  I  heard  you  were  coming  alone,  I  hoped 
you  had  friends  in  the  neighbourhood  with  whom  you 
would  stay." 

"  It  so  happens  that  I  know  nobody  here  as  yet,"  he 
replied.  "  But  I  really  must  get  some  decenter  accom- 
modation." 

"  Why  not  come  to  the  hall  ?  "  Eugenia  asked  easily. 
*'  It  would  be  a  kindness  to  help  us  to  occupy  a  little 
more  of  it.  The  house  has  suffered  from  having  been  so 
long  shut  up." 

The  frank  assurance  of  her  manner  seemed  to  sur- 
prise him.  He  glanced  at  her  gloveless  left  hand  to  see 
if  perchance  she  was  married,  and  he  confessed  to  me 
afterwards  he  could  not  quite  class  her  when  he  found 
she  wore  no  wedding-ring,  being  "  puzzled  to  make  out 
whether  she  was  Americanized,  unsophisticated,  or  not 
quite  the  right  form,  don't  you  know."  But  at  any  rate 
the  offer  was  a  good  one. 

"  I  should  be  afraid  of  intruding,"  he  feebly  depre- 
cated. 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  she  answered  smiling ;  then 
appealing  to  me,  she  added :  "  I  am  sure  I  may  say 
we  shall  both  be  glad  to  see  you.  We  dine  at  half-past 
seven." 


EUGENIA.  11 

We  smartened  ourselves  up  that  evening  somewhat  in 
honour  of  the  young  man,  and  I  noticed  that  he  and 
Eugenia  were  studying  feach  other  with  a  certain  pleased 
intentness  which  augured  well  for  their  future  friendli- 
ness. Certainly  his  coming  had  enlivened  Eugenia  as  the 
coming  of  an  eligible  should  enliven  a  girl,  and  I  waited 
with  interest  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say  about  him.  He 
had  been  looking  his  best  when  they  met  in  the  after- 
noon, the  rough  tweed  shooting  suit  he  wore  being  just 
of  the  cut  and  colour  best  adapted  to  conceal  his  defects, 
but  his  evening  dress  was  altogether  too  calculated  for 
effect,  too  evidently  the  outcome  of  serious  attention  to 
be  manly.  There  was  more  than  a  suspicion  of  some  hor- 
rid expensive  scent  about  him,  and  his  cheeks  had  a  vel- 
vety texture  which  was  cruelly  suggestive  of  powder — 
apropos  of  all  of  which  Eugenia  remarked  to  me  after- 
wards in  a  mysterious  whisper  laughingly :  "  I  suspect 
stays."  But  that  was  all  she  said  about  him,  somewhat 
to  my  surprise,  for  I  should  have  expected  that  the  ad- 
vent of  a  man  of  that  kind  would  have  caused  a  flutter  of 
curiosity  at  least  in  the  heart  of  a  country  girl.  How- 
ever in  such  a  case  not  asking  questions  is  no  proof  of  an 
absence  of  interest. 

IV. 

Eugenia  and  I  breakfasted  at  half-past  eight  next 
morning,  but  Brinkhampton  did  not  appear  until  after 
ten.  It  was  Sunday,  and  we  were  in  the  breakfast-room 
ready  dressed  for  church  when  he  entered. 

"What  will  you  have?"  Eugenia,  as  hostess,  asked 
him,  thinking  of  tea,  coffee  or  chocolate. 


12  EUGENIA. 

"  Aw,"  he  answered,  looking  round  to  the  sideboard, 
"  chiret  or  hock,  I  really  don't  care  which." 

Eugenia  ordered  both  to  be  brought,  and  then  we  hur- 
ried away  to  church. 

In  the  middle  of  the  Litany  Brinkhampton  entered, 
and,  lounging  down  the  aisle  with  conspicuous  delibera- 
tion, took  a  side  seat  from  which  he  could  survey  us  all 
at  his  ease.  He  was  dressed,  as  usual,  with  extreme  atten- 
tion to  detail,  in  the  manner  most  approved  for  the 
occasion,  and  it  was  certainly  not  his  fault  if  the  latest 
thing  in  frock  coats,  as  worn  by  himself,  appeared  to  be 
ridiculously  singular  to  the  rest  of  the  congregation  in 
contrast  to  the  archaic  cut  to  which  their  eyes  were  accus- 
tomed. He  looked  hard  at  Eugenia  from  the  moment  he 
took  his  seat,  but  she  was  deep  in  her  devotions,  and  took 
not  the  slightest  notice  of  him. 

It  was  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  little  church,  only  at- 
tended as  a  rule  by  tenants  on  the  estates  and  the  house- 
hold at  the  hall,  close  to  which  it  was  so  situated  as  to 
seem  more  of  a  private  chapel  than  a  public  place  of  wor- 
ship. All  about  us,  in  the  midst  of  the  quiet  people,  Eu- 
genia's ancestors  were  taking  their  long  rest.  Knight  and 
dame,  lord  and  lady,  soldier,  sailor,  and  priest,  good  and 
bad,  looked  dov>^n  upon  us  or  appeared  prone  in  effigies  of 
stone  upon  old  tombs,  while  tablets  of  brass  or  marble  re- 
corded the  brave  deeds  of  one,  the  learning  of  another,  the 
statesmanship  of  a  third,  and  so  on,  ascribing  every  avail- 
able virtue  to  each.  I  have  often  seen  Eugenia  beguiling 
the  tedious  sermon-time  by  studying  these  tablets,  and 
always  imagined  her  ignorant  of  the  true  characters  of  her 
notorious  ancestors,  idealizing  them  all,  and  being  elevated 


EUGENIA.  13 

by  the  deep  interest,  the  natural  alTection,  and  the  innate 
reverence  she  must  feel  for  those  to  whom  she  attributed 
all  that  was  best  about  her. 

She  was  peculiarly  situated,  being  one  of  a  long  line  of 
dominant  women,  the  estates  having  descended  from 
mother  to  daughter  in  regular  succession,  in  accordance 
with  a  curse  which  had  been  laid  upon  all  heirs  male  of 
the  family  forever — so  it  was  said — or,  at  all  events,  until 
such  time  as  an  heiress  should  contrive  to  expiate  the 
crime  for  which  the  sons  of  her  house  were  (somewhat  un- 
fairly, as  it  seems  to  our  modern  ideas  of  justice)  doomed 
to  suffer.  Eugenia  had  been  left  an  orphan  at  an  early 
age,  and  brought  up  in  the  midst  of  a  people  who  still 
clung  fervently  to  all  the  old-world  superstitions.  I  did 
not  know  how  much  of  these  she  accepted  literally,  but  I 
always  attributed  a  certain  dignity  and  general  air  as  of 
one  who  is  not  to  be  trifled  with,  which  settled  upon  her 
early,  to  the  romantic  associations  of  the  place,  and  her 
faith  in  those  who  had  gone  before.  They,  her  people, 
having  been  noble,  it  was  proper  that  she  also  should  be 
self-respecting  and  noble  too — so,  at  least,  I  read  her  re- 
flections when  I  watched  her  weigliing  the  worth  of  those 
epitaphs  in  her  own  mind  Sunday  after  Sunday  as  she 
grew  to  girlhood,  and  I  fancied  that  tlie  gentle  gravity, 
which  gradually  became  the  habitual  expression  of  her 
countenance  in  repose,  was  due  to  thoughts  like  these. 

This  morning,  however,  she  was  not  thinking  of  her 
ancestors  in  the  pauses  of  the  service.  AVhen  her  eyes 
wandered  at  all  it  was  to  the  green  graves  in  the  church- 
yard, and  the  old  trees  that  sheltered  them.  The  day  was 
warm  and  bright,  and  through  the  open  windows  the 


1^  EUGENIA. 

scented  summer  air  streamed  in  upon  lier,  and  also  there 
came  an  incessant  twittering  of  birds,  the  coo  of  a  wood- 
jiigeon  now  and  then,  and  the  hoarse  caws  of  rooks — not 
as  interruptions  to  the  service,  however,  but  rather  as  an 
accustomed  addition  to  it,  the  whole,  with  the  rural 
people,  sober  in  dress,  and  solemnly  attentive  in  their  de- 
meanour, producing  an  impression  of  remoteness  from 
the  world  and  proportionate  nearness  to  nature,  which 
was  inexpressibly  soothing.  Even  Brinkhampton's  starved 
soul  expanded  for  the  moment  just  enough  to  let  him  feel 
some  joy  in  life — something  sufficiently  worth  having  to 
make  him  forget  for  once  to  measure  time  with  a  view  to 
shortening  it,  or  "  passing  "  it,  as  is  the  insane  fashion  of 
those  who  have  not  learnt  to  live. 

When  the  service  was  over  he  walked  on  with  me  to 
the  house,  Eugenia  having  lingered  in  the  porch  talking 
to  the  people. 

"I  have  found  my  ideal ! "  he  exclaimed  fervently,  as 
soon  as  we  were  alone. 

"  Ivory  skin  and  all  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  malicious,"  ho  answered.  "  I'm  in  earnest. 
But  I've  a  bone  to  pick  with  you.  You  seem  to  have  for- 
gotten your  promise  to  me.  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  of 
this  lovely  lady  hidden  away  here  in  the  hills?" 

"  For  the  reason  you  mention,"  I  answered  coolly.  "  I 
had  forgotten  your  request." 

"  How  could  you  ;  when  she  is  so  exactly  what  I  asked 
you  to  find  for  me  too !  But  tell  me  about  her.  How 
does  she  come  to  be  so  situated — here,  you  know,  like 
this?" 

"  She  is  in  a  somewhat  unusual  position,"  I  answered. 


EUGENIA.  15 

"  She  has  no  relation  in  the  whole  world  but  an  old  uncle 
— who  was  once  in  your  regiment,  by  the  way.  All  her 
own  people  died  in  her  infancy,  and  she  has  been  brought 
up  here  principally  by  a  very  charming  and  excellent 
woman  who  came  to  be  her  governess,  and  has  remained 
to  be  a  mother  to  her.  She  is  away  just  now,  and  I  am 
here  on  duty  partly,  looking  after  Eugenia,  you  know, 
during  her  absence.  The  property's  nice,  is  it  not?  It 
was  a  good  deal  encumbered  by  debts,  but  has  been  well 
nursed  during  Eugenia's  long  minority,  and  she  is  bent 
upon  economy  herself  until  it  is  cleared." 

"  Then  she  really  is  sole  heiress  ?  "  he  observed,  look- 
ing about  him  with  an  air  of  complete  satisfaction,  as  if 
he  already  had  a  proprietary  right  to  the  place. 

"  Sole  inheritress,  I  should  say.  Half  the  neighbour- 
hood is  hers." 

"  But  why  should  she  be  buried  here  still?"  he  asked, 
then  added  :  "  But  I  am  glad  she  has  been.  I  should  like 
to  see  her  wonder  Avhen  she  enters  the  great  world  !  her 
delight  when  she  finds  what  it  really  is  to  be  mistress  of 
means,  with  jewels  and  lace,  a  centre  of  attraction  !  She 
can't  know  what  her  wealth  is  worth  a  bit  until  she  comes 
into  competition  with  other  women  and  finds  herself  able 
to  eclipse  them." 

This  noble  thought  seemed  to  enchant  him,  and  I 
could  see  he  was  hugging  himself  already  ou  the  prospect 
of  her  brilliant  social  success,  and  the  glory  which  it  would 
reflect  upon  himself. 

I  made  him  no  answer  because  I  had  determined  to  be 
neutral.  Here  were  the  conventional  elements  of  most 
romances,  youth,  beauty,  rank,  wealth,  experienced  man. 


IQ  EUGENIA. 

inexperienced  girl — but  not  a  commonplace  girl  either. 
There  was  no  knowing  exactly  how  she  would  act  under 
the  circumstances,  and  the  uncertainty  was  great  enough 
to  relieve  the  story  from  insipidity.  I  thought  it  would 
be  interesting  to  watch  the  plot  unfold,  and  I  was  anxious 
to  see  for  myself  how  this  Ouidaesque  hero  would  really 
strike  a  modern  maiden  with  ideas  of  her  own. 

That  kind  of  man  is  accustomed  to  the  Sylvias  in  and 
out  of  society,  who  will  sell  their  immortal  souls  for  gew- 
gaws, and  his  mind  had  probably  continued  to  divert  him 
with  promises  of  the  irresistible  attraction  of  such  things 
when  used  with  women  as  an  argument  to  influence  their 
feelings,  for  at  our  early  Sunday  dinner  he  said  a  good 
deal  about  diamonds,  to  which  Eugenia  listened  with  evi- 
dent interest.  She  was  highly  intelligent,  and  at  an  age 
when  the  opposite  point  of  view  is  always  surprising.  She 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  saying  much,  however.  Brink- 
hampton  was  voluble,  and  she  heard  him  out,  then  an- 
swered with  a  smile  and  in  a  casual  tone  :  "  You  seem 
to  be  fond  of  diamonds.  I  have  a  lot  upstairs  somewhere 
if  you  would  like  to  see  them.  I  used  to  delight  in  them 
myself  for  their  glitter  when  I  was  a  child,  but  now  of 
course  I  only  value  them  for  the  sake  of  any  little  family 
history  that  attaches  to  them." 

Brinkhampton  stared  at  her,  not  at  all  perceiving  that 
the  art  of  being  agreeable  to  a  Sylvia  is  not  always  effect- 
ual with  other  girls,  and  divided  between  the  pleasing 
thought  that  Eugenia  would  appreciate  her  advantages 
better  by-and-by,  when  she  came  into  competition  with 
other  women,  and  had  opportunities  of  testing  the  value 
of  diamonds  as  an  aid  to  eclipsing  them,  and  an  uncom- 


v      ^       c'  EUGENIA.  17 

fortable  though  vague  perception  of  the  unpleasant  possi- 
bility of  a  peculiar  personal  equation  "  that  might  by 
some  mischance  be  swaying  her  taste  eccentrically  in  the 
matter." 

Out  in  the  grounds  later  he  began  to  fear  that  there 
was  not  much  to  amuse  her,  that  she  must  often  find  it 
very  dull  in  this  benighted  country  place,  whereupon  she 
made  big  eyes  of  astonishment  at  him,  and  ejaculating 
"  dull ! "  glanced  comprehensively  at  the  surrounding 
wonders  of  sky,  and  sea,  and  shore,  then  addded,  "  where 
can  dulness  come  into  a  life  like  mine?" 

The  question  nonplussed  him  for  the  moment.  To  be 
so  unsophisticated  as  not  even  to  have  the  slightest  con- 
ception of  the  better  life  which  includes  shopping  in 
London  and  the  full  swing  of  everything  there  in  the 
season,  was  a  little  too  much.  "  But,"  as  he  remarked  to 
me  afterwards,  "  all  this  enhances  the  charm,  don't  you 
know ;  it's  so  fresh,  and  it  will  be  fun  to  see  how  her 
views  change  as  her  mind  is  enlarged  by  intercourse  with 
the  world,  and  to  hear  what  she  thinks  by-and-by  of  this 
rural  retreat." 

"  But  do  you  suppose  she  has  any  mind?"  I  ventured. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes,"  he  answered.  "  Quite  enough  for  a 
woman,  especially  if  she's  to  be  one's  wife.  A  clever 
woman  is  apt  to  have  '  views '  and  that  sort  of  thing,  and 
lead  a  man  a  dance  generally.  What  one  wants  in  a 
wife  is  something  nice  to  look  at  and  agreeable  to  caress 
when  one's  in  the  mood,  with  average  intelligence  of 
course,  but  conventional  ideas." 

"  Are  you  going  to  have  anybody  down  for  the  shoot- 
ing?" 


18  EUGENIA. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  answered.  "  That  was  my 
idea  at  first.  But  my  primary  motive  was  to  get  away 
from  everybody  and  recruit.  I  told  you  in  town.  I've 
had  too  good  a  time,  and  I'm  quite  used  up.  My  nerve's 
gone  to  that  extent  that  I'm  afraid  to  fire  my  own  gun  if 
I  think  about  it.  It  w^ould  certainly  be  better  for  me  to 
settle,  and  the  more  I  see  of  the  place  the  more  I  like  it. 
The  air's  delicious,  and  suits  me  too.  I'm  beginning  to 
revive  already." 

He  had  just  come  in  from  "  potting  "  rabbits,  and  we 
were  sitting  on  a  seat  in  the  garden,  he  nursing  his  gun, 
when  he  said  this,  and  after  he  had  spoken  he  reflected  a 
little,  then  added  :  "  It  would  suit  me  down  to  the  ground 
to  have  this  quiet  retreat  and  Eugenia  to  come  to  when- 
ever I  felt  played  out,  as  I  am  now." 

"  Then  you've  abandoned  the  idea  of  making  a  society 
woman  of  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  But  I  should  require  her  to  be  here 
when  I'm  otherwise  engaged,  and  can't  look  after  her, 
don't  you  know." 

I  admired  his  foresight,  it  being  evident  that  he  was 
preparing,  with  playful  toleration  of  his  own  weakness,  to 
be  tempted  back  now  and  then  to  gloat  on  Sylvia's  super- 
abundant flesh,  and  at  the  same  time  was  thinking  how 
refreshing  it  would  be,  when  that  kind  of  thing  palled 
upon  him,  to  return  to  the  rarefied  atmosphere  which 
surrounded  the  lily  of  love  whom  he  was  also  anxious  to 
secure. 


EUGENIA.  19 


V. 


Their  acquaintance  rapidly  ripened  into  intimacy,  and 
very  soon  I  perceived  that  they  had  adopted  that  tone  of 
light  banter  which  enables  young  people  to  say  so  much 
to  each  other.  The  playful  controversy  turned  for  the 
most  part  on  the  relative  merits  of  town  and  country, 
and  the  brilliancy  and  wit  of  society  compared  with  the 
petty  concerns  which  Brinkhampton  held  to  be  all  there 
was  to  discuss  in  a  neighbourhood  like  this. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  maintained,  "  you  would  like  to  hear 
people  talk  cleverly." 

"  I  would  much  rather  hear  them  talk  kindly,"  she 
answered. 

She  was  always  ready  with  some  such  response,  but  he 
soon  flattered  himself  that  her  perversity  was  a  coquettish 
assumption  to  pique  him,  and  would  try  to  provoke  her 
in  return  by  assuring  her  that  she  would  know  better 
when  she  was  older. 

The  brightness  which  I  had  noticed  on  the  first  even- 
ing of  the  coming  of  the  young  man  into  Eugenia's  quiet 
life  did  not  diminish,  but  on  the  contrary  increased  if 
anything  with  the  ripening  of  their  acquaintance.  Her 
nature  was  naturally  joyous,  and  under  Brinkhampton's 
influence  her  manner,  while  losing  none  of  its  dignified 
simplicity,  became  more  girlishly  playful,  which  was  a 
distinct  improvement,  for  until  now  she  had  been  apt  to 
display  a  too  great  earnestness  for  her  age.  Nothing  in 
her  attitude,  however,  gave  me  the  slightest  clue  to  her 
feelings  for  him.  I  did  not  know  in  the  least  whether 
she  had  ever  thought  of  him  as  a  possible  lover  or  not. 


20  EUGENIA. 

With  him  it  was  quite  different.  He  talked  of  her  in- 
cessantly, and  of  what  he  called  his  "  love  "  for  her.  He 
even  got  so  far  as  to  consider  the  settlements,  and  if  there 
would  be  ready  money  enough  in  hand  at  the  time  of  the 
marriage  to  pay  off  his  innumerable  debts  and  start  them 
clear,  because  it  would  be  a  pity  to  have  to  sell  out  any- 
thing, don't  you  know.  The  "  love  "  and  the  lucre  long- 
ings mixed  in  his  conversation  in  curiously  exact  propor- 
tions, but  still  the  frank  boyishness  of  it  all  was  taking. 

It  was  hot  harvest  weather ;  radiant  mornings  turning 
to  turquoise  and  pearl-grey  noons,  and  always  exquisite 
amethyst  seas — an  ideal  love-time,  and  it  would  have  been 
strange  if  it  had  failed  altogether  of  its  effect  upon  two 
young  people  so  thrown  together.  The  first  positive  sign 
of  serious  feeling  I  detected  in  Brinkhampton  was  an  im- 
provement in  his  habits.  On  Sunday  morning  he  had 
breakfasted  between  ten  and  eleven,  on  Wednesday  he  was 
up  at  seven  o'clock.  Eugenia  and  I  were  just  starting  for 
the  meadows  with  baskets  to  gather  mushrooms  for  break- 
fast when  he  appeared.  He  volunteered  to  accompany  us, 
and  wanted  to  carry  our  baskets,  but  Eugenia  said  that 
would  only  be  robbing  us  of  our  occupation,  and  suggested 
that  he  should  have  one  of  his  own. 

We  straggled  down  the  road  after  each  other.  The 
morning  was  deliciously  fresh,  and  so  was  Eugenia.  Brink- 
hampton could  not  take  his  eyes  off  her,  and,  although 
she  never  glanced  at  him,  I  knew  by  the  smile  that  con- 
stantly hovered  about  her  mouth,  the  brightness  of  her 
eyes,  the  slightly  heightened  colour  on  her  delicate  cheeks, 
and  the  buoyancy  of  her  step,  that  she  was  aware  of  his 
earnest  gaze,  and  animated   by  his  admiration.     They 


EUGENIA.  21 

chatted  incessantly,  disagreeing  generally,  but  it  was  im- 
possible to  tell  whether  they  were  pulling  apart  or  only 
arriving  at  a  better  understanding.  There  was  sufficient 
difference  of  opinion  to  read  both  ways,  but  owing  to  the 
cheerful  playfulness  of  the  tone  in  which  it  was  all  ex- 
pressed, it  was  hard  to  determine  how  much  either  of  them 
really  meant. 

Cock  pheasants  crowed  in  the  coverts  as  we  passed, 
rabbits  ran  nimbly  out  of  the  way.  We  crossed  a  limpid 
trout  stream  in  a  little  wood,  and,  coming  out  into  the 
open  ground  again,  found  ourselves  on  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  in  full  view  of  the  sun-smitten  sea.  The  many-mur- 
murous voice  of  ocean  was  in  our  ears,  the  vital  breath  of 
it  upon  our  cheeks.  Eugenia,  standing  on  the  brink  with 
longing  eyes,  looked  out  first  over  the  moving  waters  into 
the  morning  mist  where  the  sea-birds  revel,  then  turned 
to  Brinkhampton  brightly,  and  asked  :  "  Did  you  ever  see 
anything  like  this  in  Bond  Street  ?  " 

Brinkhampton  sighed  sentimentally,  but  wisely  held 
his  peace. 

It  was  a  high  cliff  upon  which  we  were  standing,  and 
there  was  a  narrow  precipitous  winding  path,  cut  out  of 
the  chalk  and  very  dangerous-looking,  running  down  to 
the  beach. 

"  Let  us  go  back  by  the  sands,"  Eugenia  exclaimed, 
our  baskets  being  full  by  this  time,  and  away  she  went, 
nimbly  as  a  goat,  I  following  without  a  thought.  At  the 
bottom  we  looked  back,  and  discovered  Brinkhampton  at 
one  of  the  bends  about  half-way  down  leaning  against  the 
cliff — I  had  almost  said  clinging  to  it. 

"  Anything  the  matter  ?  "  Eugenia  cried. 


22  EUGENIA. 

"  I'm  stuck,"  he  answered. 

"  How  thoughtless  of  me,"  I  exclaimed,  and  ran  back 
to  help  him.  He  was  pale,  and  clutched  my  hand  eagerly 
when  I  ollered  it  to  him. 

"  You  see  I  have  not  exaggerated,"  he  said,  dejectedly. 
"  I've  no  nerve  left  for  anything.  I'm  used  up.  It's  high 
time  I  settled." 

My  hand,  however,  and  also  perhaps  the  now  familiar 
formula,  helped  to  restore  his  confidence,  and  we  got  down 
together  pretty  creditably.  I  could  see  that  Brinkhamp- 
ton  expected  some  sympathy  for  his  giddiness,  but  Eugenia 
was  throwing  stones  into  the  water  unconcernedly  when 
we  rejoined  her,  and  went  on  without  a  word  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  Near  the  house  a  tall  good-looking 
young  man  of  distinguished  appearance  met  us. 

"  There's  Saxon,"  Eugenia  exclaimed  when  he  came  in 
sight,  and  greeted  him  familiarly,  but  did  not  introduce 
him  to  Brinkhampton. 

I  knew  him  of  old,  and  asked  him  why  he  had  not 
been  to  see  me. 

"  We  have  had  to  make  the  most  of  this  harvest  weath- 
er," he  answered.  "  But  I  shall  be  able  to  call  soon  now, 
I  hope,  if  I  may." 

"  Yes,  do  come,  Saxon,"  Eugenia  exclaimed.  "  There 
are  ever  so  many  things  I  want  to  consult  you  about." 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  Brinkhampton  asked  afterwards. 

"  Saxon  Wake,  a  friend  of  my  youth,"  Eugenia  an- 
swered lightly.  "  His  people  have  been  here  as  long  as 
we  have.  They  were  Yeoman  farmers,  but  now  they  own 
a  part  of  what  were  our  estates." 

"  The  yokel  has  passable   manners,"  Brinkhampton 


EUGENIA.  23 

said,  patronisingly.  "  I  suppose  he  picks  up  a  little  veneer 
at  race-meetings  and  hunt-breakfasts." 

"  The  yokel  was  a  wrangler  of  his  year,"  Eugenia  an- 
swered icily. 

Brinkhampton  said  no  more,  lie  had  not  taken  any 
degree  himself. 

VI. 

We  had  a  private  letter-bag  at  the  hall  which  was 
brought  in  for  Eugenia  to  unlock  every  morning,  and  she 
usually  distributed  the  letters  herself.  That  day  she  took 
out  one  amons:  others  that  instantlv  filled  the  room  with 
some  strong  scent  of  which  it  was  reeking.  "  Ugh  !  "  she 
exclaimed  ;  "  after  the  open  air,  how  coarse  this  is.  Who 
can  it  be  for  ?  You," — to  Brinkhampton.  "  It  savours 
of  '  Society '  to  me, — '  the  thick  of  life,' — '  excitement ! ' 
but  my  rustic  nose  is  unequal  to  the  demands  of  such  an 
assault.     Please  take  it !  " 

Brinkhampton  glanced  at  the  superscription  as  she 
handed  him  the  note,  and  his  countenance  expressed 
"  Faugh ! "  as  clearly  as  a  countenance  can  speak.  He 
was  about  to  put  the  note  in  his  pocket,  but  changed  his 
mind,  and  laid  it  beside  his  plate.  It  had  occurred  to  him 
that  he  might  draw  suggestions  of  the  mysterious  "  fuller  " 
life  of  a  man  from  it  with  which  to  enhance  his  j^^'^stige 
with  this  little  country  girl. 

"  It  is  from  Sylvia,"  he  observed. 

"The  burlesque  actress?"  Eugenia  asked.  "I  sup- 
pose you  know  numbers  of  people  of  that  kind." 

He  smiled  complacently. 


24:  EUGENIA. 

"  You  must  find  it  very  different  being  here  with  us," 
she  remarked. 

"  Of  course  it  is  a  change,"  he  confessed. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  thoughtfully.  "  But  I  wonder 
you  can  endure  it,  even  for  a  change." 

"  Oh,  one  would  endure  a  good  deal  for  the  sake  of 
some  people,"  he  blundered. 

I  noticed  that  the  shooting  claimed  less  and  less  of  his 
attention.  He  did  not  even  make  a  pretence  of  going  out 
to-day,  and  Eugenia  herself  had  scarcely  paid  a  visit,  or 
had  anyone  at  the  house  since  his  arrival.  The  young 
man,  set  in  sunshine  with  an  accompaniment  of  lovely 
languid  autumn  weather,  had  sufficed  so  far  for  an  absorb- 
ing interest,  but  now  at  last  as  we  loitered  in  the  dining- 
room  after  lunch  she  raised  that  question  of  What  shall 
we  do  ?  which  usually  implies  the  palling  of  an  old  pleas- 
ure and  a  desire  for  something  new. 

She  was  sitting  on  the  sill  of  one  of  the  wide-open 
windows  with  her  feet  on  the  deep-cushioned  windows- 
seat,  and  as  she  spoke  there  was  a  sound  of  horse's  feet 
spattering  through  the  gravel  below. 

"  Here's  Saxon  ! "  she  *  exclaimed  with  animation. 
"  Saxon,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you.  ^Ye  want  something 
to  do  this  afternoon.     Come  and  consult." 

"  Why  not  have  out  the  coach,  drive  to  Greenwood 
Sound,  send  the  saddle-horses  by  the  short  cut  across  the 
fields  to  wait  for  you  there,  and  race  the  tide  home  round 
Towindard  Head,"  Saxon  rejoined  from  below.  "  The 
tide  will  be  just  right  for  the  ride  if  you  get  off  in  half  an 
hour." 

"  Excellent !  "   Eugenia  exclaimed.     "  But  3'ou  must 


EUGENIA.  25 

come  with  us,  Saxon.  One  gentleman  is  not  enough  for 
two  ladies,  and  Lord  Brinkhampton  docs  not  know  the 
coast.  Do  ride  round  to  the  stables  and  order  the  coach 
and  despatch  Gould  with  the  horses  while  we  are  putting 
on  our  habits.  Come,  boot  and  spur,  my  lord,"  she  called 
to  Brinkhampton  as  she  dragged  me  from  the  room. 

"  He  doesn't  look  very  gracious  about  it,"  she  said,  as 
we  ran  upstairs  together,  "  and  I  expect  he'll  take  an  hour 
to  adorn  himself.  I  suppose  I  shall  be  obliged  to  let  him 
drive.  Saxon  won't,  I  know.  But  I  do  wonder  what 
kind  of  a  whip  he  is.  If  he  can't  drive,  however,  he 
shan't  pretend  to,  for  I  don't  believe  true  womanliness 
consists  in  letting  a  man  do  badly  what  a  woman  can  do 
well,  simply  because  men  generally  are  more  accustomed 
to  perform  that  particular  exercise  than  women  are.  But 
let  us  hope  he  has  forgotten  to  provide  himself  with  the 
last  thing  in  driving  gloves.  lie  would  never  use  any- 
thing already  out  of  date  by  a  season." 

This  last  little  sarcasm,  although  playfully  uttered, 
sounded  significant,  but  if  Brinkhampton  had  gone  down 
in  her  estimation  for  any  reason,  he  rose  again  when  it 
came  to  offering  him  the  reins,  by  the  frank  way  in  which 
he  acknowledged  he  was  no  whip,  and  had  never  been 
able  to  handle  a  team  in  his  life. 

Contrary  to  our  expectation,  he  was  waiting  for  us  in 
the  porch  when  we  went  down,  and  was  also,  wonderful 
to  relate,  amicably  discussing  the  points  of  the  horses 
with  Saxon.  It  was  a  smart  turn-out,  and  doubtless  the 
possession  of  it,  by  adding  an  important  item  to  other  evi- 
dences of  Eugenia's  many  material  attractions,  had  im- 
proved his  humour.  .^ 

\    VNIVER8(TY 


26  EUGENIA. 

VII. 

Brixkhamptox  sat  beside  Eugenia  on  the  front  seat, 
Saxon  and  I  were  behind  them,  and  at  the  back  were 
Baldwin,  the  old  family  coachman,  and  a  groom  with  the 
coach-horn.  The  horses,  dark  glossy  bays  with  black 
points,  were  mettlesome  beasts.  They  danced  down  the 
drive  as  if  unaware  of  the  slight  encumbrance  of  the  coach 
and  its  load  behind  them.  It  was  a  wonderful  thing  to 
see  Eugenia,  a  slender  girl,  almost  standing  against  her 
high  seat  with  her  feet  planted  firmly  in  front  of  her, 
controlling  the  four  great  prancing  creatures  without 
apparent  effort.  One  could  not  help  calculating  what 
the  nerve-power  must  be  behind  such  ease,  and  what  the 
strength  of  the  sinews  which  were  masked  by  her  "  ivory 
skin."  She  never  looked  better  than  on  that  occasion. 
Her  riding  habit,  clinging  close,  showed  the  perfection  of 
her  figure.  The  sun  was  still  hot,  and  she  w^ore,  slightly 
tilted  back,  a  low-crowned  white  sailor  hat,  the  roundness 
of  which  set  off  the  delicate  oval  of  her  cheeks.  Her  ripe 
red  lips  were  slightly  parted  in  a  smile  showing  the  white 
teeth  between,  her  eyes  danced  in  liquid  light ;  one  could 
trace  the  course  of  the  blue  veins  beneath  the  transparent 
skin,  and  the  fresh  air  and  exertion  had  brought  a  bril- 
liant colour  to  her  cheeks.  But  for  those  with  the  inner 
eyes  that  see  beneath  the  surface,  there  w^as  more  about 
her  to  attract  than  mere  good  looks  and  the  ineffable 
charm  of  youth.  There  shone  in  her  face  the  happy 
spirit  that  makes  much  of  the  smallest  joy  in  life,  and 
sees  in  the  most  obvious  admiration  of  her  friends  only 
an  evidence  of  their  own  good  dispositions.     There  is 


EUGENIA.  27 

more  beauty  than  character  as  a  rule  in  the  delicate  curves 
and  lineless  smootliness  of  a  young  girl's  face ;  but  still, 
in  studying  Eugenia,  one  felt  that,  for  all  her  soft  voice 
and  gentle  courteous  bearing,  she  was  not  a  person  to  be 
trifled  with.  There  are  natures  which  may  be  taught  but 
must  not  be  dictated  to,  and  hers  was  one  of  those. 

She  was,  in  fact,  essentially  a  modern  maiden,  richly 
endowed  with  all  womanly  attributes,  whose  value  is  fur- 
ther enhanced  by  the  strength  w^hich  comes  of  the  liberty 
to  think,  and  of  the  education  out  of  which  is  made  the 
material  for  thought.  With  such  women  for  the  mothers 
of  men,  the  English-speaking  races  should  rule  the  world. 

As  he  watched  her,  Brinkhampton's  petty  disdain  of 
Saxon  the  yeoman  sank  into  the  background  of  his  con- 
sciousness. One  could  see  his  countenance  expand  until 
he  looked  superlatively  happy,  as  his  delight  in  her  love- 
liness gained  upon  him. 

And  Saxon,  sitting  beside  me  with  his  arms  folded, 
thoughtfully  watched  her  too,  but  there  was  a  somewhat 
sad  expression  on  his  handsome  face.  They  had  been 
playfellows,  but  still  he  saw  in  Brinkhampton  only  what 
was  appropriate  to  her  station  in  the  way  of  a  suitor,  and 
there  was  no  bitterness  in  him.  It  was  what  he  had  all 
along  prepared  himself  to  be  resigned  to  eventually. 
Brinkhampton  himself  was  not  so  proudly  conscious  of 
the  difference  of  position  as  Saxon  was ;  but  Brinkhamp- 
ton was  accustomed  to  consider  only  his  own  interests  in 
regard  to  women,  and  naturally  assumed  that  Saxon  was 
equally  inferior. 

It  was  ten  miles  from  Towindard  Hall  to  Greenwood 
Sound,  but  the  horses  seemed  to  have  covered  the  ground 


23  EUGENIA. 

in  no  time,  for  it  was  still  early  in  the  afternoon  when  we 
halted  in  a  shady  lane  between  the  river  on  our  left,  seen 
through  a  frame  of  foliage,  and  a  high  bank  on  our  right, 
a  green  bank  dotted  with  clumps  of  fern,  and  crowned 
with  trees,  beneath  which  sheep  were  quietly  browsing. 
No  one  would  have  suspected  that  we  were  in  the  near 
neighbourhood  of  the  treacherous  ocean  and  a  dangerous 
shore.  There  was  a  deep  glow  as  of  approaching  sunset 
upon  the  placid  river,  a  babble  of  birds  in  the  trees 
above  us,  and  somewhere  unseen,  a  cock  crowed  cheerily 
at  intervals.  The  horses,  only  refreshed  apparently  by 
their  ten  miles'  scamper,  pawed  the  ground  impatiently, 
tossed  their  heads  till  the  harness  jingled,  and  recognising 
their  stable  companions  who  were  already  awaiting  us  un- 
der the  trees  with  their  saddles  on,  saluted  them  with 
loud  neighs  joyously. 

"  We  must  make  tea  here,  there  is  plenty  of  time,"  said 
Saxon,  as  he  clambered  down. 

"  Oh,  how  delightful !  "  Eugenia  exclaimed.  "  I  forgot 
all  about  tea.     You  always  remember  everything,  Saxon." 

She  threw  down  the  reins. 

"  Come,"  she  said  to  Brinkhampton, "  come  and  collect 
sticks." 

Brinkhampton  went  of  necessity,  but  he  was  not  one  of 
those  men  who  readily  adapt  themselves  to  any  position, 
and  as  he  picked  up  the  sticks  his  whole  attitude  was 
awkwardly  condescending,  and  he  evidently  did  not  agree 
when  Eugenia  contended  that  it  was  half  the  fun  on  these 
expeditions  to  do  all  that  kind  of  thing  for  one's  self.  I 
saw  that  she  observed  how  he  picked  up  the  sticks  by 
their  dryest  ends,  and  held  them  away  from  him  daintily ; 


EUGENIA.  29 

but  her  countenance  remained  unruffled,  and  I  could  not 
tell  if  she  saw  anything  ludicrous  in  such  extreme  fastidi- 
ousness. Stooping  made  Brink hampton  red  in  the  face, 
and  giddy,  and  he  had  to  stop  frequently  to  recover  him- 
self, and  always  when  he  did  so,  he  looked  about  him 
haughtily  as  if  he  were  asking  nature  to  be  so  good  as  to 
observe  that  a  Peer  of  the  Realm  was  picking  up  sticks. 

We  soon  had  a  big  fire  blazing  in  the  shade,  and  while 
we  were  waiting  for  the  kettle  to  boil,  we  lolled  about  on 
cushions  taken  from  the  coach,  and  by  degrees  were  gained 
upon  by  the  enchanting  day,  the  heavenly  quiet,  and  the 
associations  of  the  place,  so  that  insensibly  our  modern 
mood  slipped  from  us,  the  charm  of  ancient  days  was  on 
us,  and  we  found  ourselves  a  prey  to  thoughts  of  that 
which  is  not  seen  or  known,  but  only  felt. 

"  Is  this  Greenwood  Sound  ? "  Brinkhampton  said 
suddenly. 

"  Yes,"  Eugenia  answered,  "and  when  I  am  here  I  am 
alwa3^s  overpowered  with  a  strange  feeling  of  remoteness. 
It  is  as  if  my  kindred  claimed  me — not  as  if  they  came  to 
me  here,  but  as  if  they  took  me  to  themselves — to  their 
own  times.  This  is  a  spot  which  has  been  specially  sanc- 
tified by  the  sins  of  my  ancestors.'* 

Brinkhampton  asked  her  if  she  were  superstitious. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  in  a  surprised  tone.  "  I 
never  thought  about  it."  Then  she  reflected  a  little. 
"But  certainly,"  she  added,  "no  son  of  the  house  has  ever 
succeeded." 

"Are  these  church  lands  then?"  Brinkhampton  asked. 

"  No,  the  tradition  is  older  than  that,"  she  said.  "  By 
the  way,  isn't  it  evident  they  worshipped  the  Evil  One  of 


30  EUGENIA. 

old  ?  Their  cursings  were  so  effectual,  while  their  bless- 
ings were  of  such  small  avail.  But,  Saxon,  tell  the  tale. 
You  know  it  best." 

"  The  country  folks  hereabouts  preserve  it  in  ballads," 
he  answered  unaffectedly.  "  They  give  the  vague  date  of 
hundreds  of  years  ago,  when  Towindard  Hall  was  a  castle 
owned  by  a  miserly  old  earl.  He  was  a  direct  ancestor  of 
yours,  as  you  know,  and  he  had  an  only  daughter  whom 
he  meant  to  barter  for  gold  to  the  highest  bidder  when 
she  should  be  old  enough  to  marry.  She  was  a  girl  of 
magnificent  physique,  with  a  spirit  as  fine  as  her  form  and 
features,  and  moreover  she  was  dowered,  says  the  legend, 
with  caution,  and  the  gift  of  silence,  so  that,  when  at  last 
her  father  ordered  her  to  prepare  to  marry  a  man  she  had 
hardly  seen,  and  was  not  prepossessed  by,  she  held  her 
peace  instead  of  raising  useless  objections,  and  waited  un- 
til she  should  know  more  of  him.  It  does  not  say  that 
she  ever  really  disliked  him,  but  at  that  time  a  man  had 
to  have  as  much  physical  courage  as  he  has  nowadays  to 
have  moral  courage  to  recommend  'him  to  a  girl " 

"A  man  must  have  both,"  Eugenia  put  in,  decidedly. 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,"  Saxon  pursued,  "  from  what  your 
ancestress  saw  of  Lord  Willoughby,  her  suitor,  before  they 
were  married,  she  shrewdly  suspected  that  he  was  a  cow- 
ard, *  unmeet  with  me  to  wed,'  as  the  ballad  says  ;  but 
there  was  no  getting  out  of  the  match,  she  being  her 
father's  chattel  and  entirely  at  his  disposal.  She  deter- 
mined, however,  that  before  she  settled  down  for  life  with 
the  man,  she  would  test  his  courage  just  to  see  who  should 
be  master;  so  she  stipulated  that  on  their  wedding-day,  he 
should  let  her  drive  him  from  Greenwood  Sound  (where 


EUGENIA.  31 

we  are  now),  to  Willougliby  Chase  (his  place),  by  Towiii- 
dard  Head.     He  refused  her  nothing,  the  ballad  says : 

"  The  day  broke  cloudy,  the  wind  was  high, 
The  storm-clouds  fought  in  a  murky  bky, 
The  wild  waves  whitened  the  sands  with  scud, 
The  sunset  brightened  the  sky  with  blood. 
O  wild !     0  wild  !     Ah,  well-a-day ! 
Does  the  bridegroom  note  that  the  bride  is  gay? 

"  The  chariot  stood  at  the  castle  door. 
The  hinds  were  holding  the  horses  four, 
The  storm  wind  tosses  the  horses'  manes, 
The  bride  has  gathered  the  fluttering  reins. 
O  wild  !    0  wild !    Ah,  well-a-day ! 
Does  the  bridegroom  note  that  the  bride  is  gayf 

"  From  Greenwood  Sound  to  Willoughby  Chase, 
By  Towindard  Head  in  a  chariot  race, 
Four  horses  racing  the  rising  tide, 
A  white-faced  bridegroom,  a  desp'rate  bride. 
O  wild !    0  wild !    Ah,  well-a-day ! 
For  the  gale  blows  fierce  in  Towindard  Bay. 

" '  Now,  good,  my  lord,  though  art  pledged  to  race, 
From  Greenwood  Sound  to  Willoughby  Chase, 
To  race  the  tide  round  Towindard  Head, 
But  methinks  thou  art  frighted,  my  lord,'  she  said. 
O  wild !    O  wild  !     Ah,  well-a-day ! 
*  Crouch  down  on  your  knees  at  my  feet  and  pray.' 

"  At  Willoughby  Chase  there  was  dole  that  night. 
The  bride  has  arrived  all  scared  and  white. 
And  the  four  bhick  steeds  have  reached  the  shore. 
But  the  bridegroom  cometh  again  no  more. 
0  wild  !     0  wild  !     Ah,  well-a-day  ! 
Lord  Willoughby  sleeps  in  Towindard  Bay." 


32  EUGENIA. 

"  Slie  had  drowned  him  then,"  Brinkhampton  ex- 
chiimed. 

"  So  it  was  eventually  supposed,"  Eugenia  answered 
easily.  It  is  customary  to  assume  a  modest  tone  with  re- 
gard to  the  crimes  committed  by  our  remote  ancestors, 
and  not  to  boast  about  them  on  account  of  their  misdeeds, 
however  narrowly  they  may  have  escaped  hanging,  and 
Eugenia  always  alluded  to  this  one  in  the  most  becoming- 
ly casual  manner.  "  She  was  not  suspected  of  having 
done  so  at  first,  however,"  she  pursued.  "It  was  believed 
to  have  been  an  accident,  and  so  it  may  have  been,  for  my 
greatest  great-grandmother  was  evidently  one  of  those 
people  of  strongly  marked  character  and  independent 
habits,  around  whose  names  all  kinds  of  stories  collect  by 
degrees,  until  at  last  there  are  so  many  that  they  must 
have  done  something  notable  on  every  day  of  their  lives 
in  order  to  accomplish  such  an  amount.  By  Lord  Wil- 
loughby's  death  she  became  mistress  of  Willoughby  Chase, 
and  as  she  inherited  Towindard  also,  she  was  in  a  power- 
ful position  for  the  times.  She  married  again  and  be- 
came my  ancestress,  but  of  her  second  husband,  my  an- 
cestor, nothing  is  known  except  that  there  was  such  a 
person.  He  was  apparently  one  of  those  people  who 
don't  count." 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  "  said  Brinkhampton. 

"  No,"  Eugenia  answered,  "  the  most  important  part 
is  3'et  to  come.  According  to  the  story,  everything  suc- 
ceeded with  my  remarkable  ancestress  during  her  life,  but 
on  her  death-bed  she  was  seen  to  be  in  sore  distress  of 
mind,  and  at  last  she  sent  for  a  priest,  but  exactly  what 
she  confessed  to  him  was  never  revealed,  only  it  was  ob- 


EUGENIA.  33 

served  that,  when  he  left  her,  his  eyes  were  wild  and  his 
cheeks  were  pale.  And  it  is  known  that  he  had  laid  what 
he  thought  to  be  a  curse  on  one  daughter  of  the  family  in 
every  generation.  A  celibate  priest  naturally  did  not  un- 
derstand women ;  he  thought  property  and  power  would 
be  a  bane  to  us,  so  he  condemned  one  of  us  to  inherit  the 
estates  always,  until  such  time  as  we  should  discover  how 
to  remove  the  curse  !  " 

"  And  you  have  not  done  so  yet?  "  Brinkhampton  said. 

"  Nobody  has  ever  tried  that  I  know  of,"  Eugenia  an- 
swered naively.  "  It's  rather  hard  on  the  boys,  but  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  curse,  there  probably  would  not  have 
been  any  property  by  this  time." 

"  Churchman's  justice  is  peculiar,"  I  interjected.  "  I 
can't  see  upon  what  principle  the  unoffending  innocents 
were  condemned  to  death." 

"  But  there  was  some  sense  in  the  penance  which  the 
priest  prescribed  for  your  ancestress,"  Saxon  pursued. 
"  He  condemned  her  to  drive  her  wild  black  horses 
against  the  rising  tide  with  her  cowering  bridegroom 
crouching  at  her  feet  forever,  or  until  such  time  as  her 
troubled  spirit  should  be  released  by  one  of  her  descend- 
ants— 

"And  so  for  evermore 

Along  the  shore 
She  hears  the  swift  wild  surges  roar, 

For  evermore  slie  urges 
Hot  headstrong  steeds  to  brave  the  roaring  surges. 

With  tightened  traces 

Full  speed  she  races — 

And  those  wlio  ride 
Shall  hear  their  thund'ring  rush  against  the  rising  tide." 


S4:  EUGENIA. 

"  But  has  anyone  ever  heard  them  ?  "  Briukhampton 
objected. 

"  We  all  have,"  I  answered,  whereupon  he  looked 
mystified,  because  he  did  not  consider  me  superstitious — 
nor  was  he,  oh  dear  no,  not  a  bit ! 

This  broke  the  spell.  The  tea  was  ready,  and  tea  with 
cream  and  cakes  and  ravenous  appetites  brought  us  back 
incontinently  to  the  most  sceptical  mood  of  our  own  day. 

"  But  what  exactly  are  we  going  to  do  ?  "  Briukhamp- 
ton asked. 

"  Oh,  just  race  the  tide  round  Towindard  Head," 
Eugenia  answered  casually.  "  If  we  are  there  first  we 
shall  get  round  easily,  and  find  ourselves  near  home,  but 
if  the  sea  is  before  ns,  it  complicates  matters.  What 
about  the  weather,  Baldwin  ?  Here  in  the  hollow  it  seems 
to  be  perfectly  stagnant." 

The  old  man  looked  up  at  the  sky,  and  then  out  over 
the  river  through  the  gap  in  the  greenery  which  formed 
a  frame  for  the  shining  sluggish  water. 

"  There'll  be  no  sea  on  to-day,  missie,"  he  answered 
deliberately. 

"  You're  coming  with  us?"  said  Eugenia. 

"  Ah'm  certainly  comin'  wi'  you,  missie,"  he  answered 
decidedly. 

The  servants  had  had  their  tea  by  this  time,  and  were 
preparing  to  take  back  the  coach. 

We  mounted  our  horses. 

"  I  suppose  you  can  calculate  the  state  of  the  tide 
pretty  accurately,"  Briukhampton  remarked  as  he  settled 
Eugenia  in  her  saddle.  I  might  have  been  mistaken,  but 
I  thought  I  detected  a  shade  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 


EUGENIA.  35 

"  No,  that  is  the  difficulty,"  Eugenia  replied.  "  The 
weather  affects  it.  Sometimes  it  is  a  rushing  race-horse, 
white-crested  and  impetuous,  and  sometimes  it  is  a  crawl- 
ing snake,  equally  swift,  you  know,  but  insidious.  You 
are  caught  before  you  suspect  there  is  danger." 

"  I  suppose  you  love  the  sea,"  he  rejoined,  in  a  tone 
which  affected  to  be  as  casual  as  her  own. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  also  loathe  it.  I  look 
upon  it  as  a  treacherous  enemy  to  be  outwitted,  and  dote 
upon  its  changeful  beauty  all  the  same." 

AVe  were  off  now,  down  the  winding  lane.  The  green 
bank  was  behind  us,  grey  sand-dunes  were  on  either  side, 
ahead  was  the  desolate  wide  waste  of  shore,  and  far  out, 
under  a  low  and  leaden  sky,  little  bright  sapphire  wave- 
lets, scarcely  flecked  with  foam,  crisped  and  broke  with 
baby  impotence  upon  the  sand.  The  scene  was  solemn  in 
its  dreariness,  but  not  depressing.  Some  suggestions  of 
boundless  space  are  more  elevating  than  the  mountains. 
Away  to  our  right  the  flat  shore  shot  up  suddenly  into 
precipitous  cliffs,  and  these,  curving  out  with  a  fine  sweep 
seawards,  resulted  abruptly  in  the  towering  promontory 
which  it  was  our  object  to  ride  round.  But  between  us 
and  it  there  were  miles  of  desolation. 

Our  horses  were  now  being  tried  by  the  ruts  of  the 
heavy  cart  track  which  formed  the  only  road  across  the 
sand-dunes. 

"  This  is  slow  going,"  said  Eugenia,  "  but  I  warn  you 
they  will  pull  like  mad  the  moment  we  are  on  firm  sand ; 
so  sit  tight." 

The  w^arning  was  not  unnecessary.  A  few  more  strug- 
gles, then  suddenly  their  feet  were  free  of  the  heaviness, 


36  EUGENIA. 

and,  feeling  the  resistance  of  the  firm  sand,  they  plunged 
about  excitedly,  and  then  set  off  in  a  frantic  gallop — pit- 
apat, pitapat,  pitapat,  the  hoofs  beat  rhythmically.  We 
were  well  away  now,  with  the  sea  on  our  left,  the  land 
on  our  right,  and  on  in  front,  looming  gigantic  through 
the  haze,  Towindard  Head — 

"  Onward  and  northward  fierce  and  fleet, 

As  if  life  and  death  were  in  it ! 

'Tis  a  glorious  race,  a  race  against  time, 

A  thousand  to  one  we  win  it." 

The  sea-sweet  air  was  wildly  exhilarating.  Even  the 
horses  seemed  seized  upon  by  the  gladness  there  is  in 
rapid  motion  and  in  windswept  spaces.  Every  face  was 
eager  now.  I  felt  I  should  shout  aloud  upon  the  slightest 
provocation — 

"  This  ride  was  ray  delight.     I  love  all  waste 
And  solitary  places ;  where  we  taste 
The  pleasure  of  believing  what  we  see 
Is  boundless,  as  we  wish  our  souls  to  be  : 
And  such  was  this  wild  ocean,  and  this  shore 
More  barren  than  its  billows." 

Our  gallop  was  checked  by  a  sudden  wild  commotion. 
I  was  aware  of  old  Baldwin  shouting  something,  of  Saxon 
spurring  on  ahead  of  me,  of  Brinkhampton's  horse  floun- 
dering, of  a  scared  look  on  his  face,  of  Eugenia  catching 
his  reins,  giving  her  own  horse  its  head,  and  swinging  her 
heavy  whip  with  sounding  slashes.  The  horses  responded 
gallantly,  plunging  and  straining.  I  don't  know  if  we  all 
shouted  encouragement,  but  it  seemed  only  an  instant  till 
the  incident  was  over,  and  we  were  off  again,  tearing  along 


EUGENIA.  37 

in  a  body,  having  swerved  inland  considerably.  When  the 
pace  relaxed,  Brinkhampton  wiped  his  forehead.  "  What 
was  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  outer  edge  of  the  quicksand,"  Eugenia  answered. 
"  It  shifts.  The  last  time  it  was  here  where  we  are  now, 
and  I  thought  we  were  giving  it  a  wide  berth  to-day. 
Forgive  me  for  touching  your  reins.  There  was  sucli  a 
racket,  I  despaired  of  making  you  hear,  and  you  were 
pulling  right  into  it.  Look  at  the  horses,  poor  brutes, 
how  terrified  they  are?  It  would  be  humane  to  pull 
them  up  for  a  breathing  space —  "  she  looked  on  ahead, 
then  added  significantly,  "  if  there  were  time.'''' 

So  far  we  had  been  keeping  a  middle  course  between 
the  sea  and  shore,  but  now  we  began  to  bear  down  towards 
the  water.  The  horses  glanced  suspiciously  this  way  and 
that,  ready  to  shy  or  swerve  on  tlie  least  occasion.  They 
kept  their  ears  pricked  too,  or  laid  them  back  in  a  nerv- 
ous way,  and  were  foaming  at  their  mouths ;  and  every 
now  and  then  they  broke  out  of  the  steady  canter  at 
which  we  were  endeavouring  to  keep  them  in  order  to 
save  them  for  a  big  spurt,  if  necessary,  towards  the  end 
of  the  race,  into  a  gallop  which  would  soon  have  become 
a  wild  stampede  had  we  not  held  them  well  in  hand. 
But  in  the  midst  of  these  efforts,  whilst  I  was  altogether 
intent  upon  them,  and  without  the  slightest  warning,  my 
horse  made  an  awkward  stumble,  which  sent  me  grace- 
fully circling  from  my  saddle  to  a  safer  seat  on  the  sand. 
Old  Baldwin,  seeing  what  was  coming,  had  roared  :  "  Look 
out ! "  but  not  in  time  to  save  me. 

Brinkhampton,  being  on  in  front,  did  not  see  what 
had  happened,  and  his  shattered  nerves,  shaken  already 


38  EUGENIA. 

by  horror  of  the  quicksand,  betrayed  him.  Tlie  moment 
he  heard  the  shout,  without  waiting  to  see  what  was 
wrong,  he  let  his  horse  go,  and  galloped  on  some  distance, 
leaving  us  to  our  fate. 

"  'is  ludship  'e  doan't  like  yer  wdckstands  an'  yer 
gliosteses,"  old  Baldwin  chuckled,  as  he  picked  me  up. 

But  Brinkhampton  had  discovered  his  mistake  by  this 
time,  and  was  cantering  back  to  us  with  a  deprecating 
look  on  his  face  like  that  of  a  diffident  schoolboy  who 
finds  he  has  done  the  wrong  thing  and  is  covered  with 
confusion.  The  expression  suited  him,  and,  being  a 
splendid  horseman,  he  looked  so  handsome  as  he  ap- 
proached Eugenia,  that  I  thought  with  a  qualm :  "  She 
will  pity  him." 

"  My  horse  is  very  nervous,"  he  said,  apologetically. 

She  glanced  down  at  the  horse's  feet,  and  then  looked 
straight  before  her  without  a  word,  her  air  of  calm  in- 
difference being  exactly  the  same  as  she  had  worn  when 
Brinkhampton  and  I  joined  her  after  he  had  been  stuck 
on  the  cliff,  and  found  her  watching  the  stones  she  was 
throwing  make  ducks  and  drakes  on  the  water.  On  this 
occasion  her  demeanour  so  disconcerted  Brinkhampton 
that  he  lost  his  head,  and  contradicted  himself  as  soon  as 
he  had  spoken.    . 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  signal  to  double,"  he  said  to  me. 

*'  No ;  it  was  not  a  signal,"  I  answered,  "  but  a  stone 
which  my  horse  apparently  mistook  for  a  bit  of  seaweed." 

We  had  moved  on  again,  and  were  close  to  the  water's 
edge  by  this  time.  The  monstrous  sea,  oily  and  w^aveless, 
crawled  up  in  great  irregular  curves  over  the  shining 
sand.     The  horses  kept  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  incoming 


EUGENIA.  39 

stream  in  frightened  anticipation,  and  leaned  away  from 
it,  as  if  ready  to  swerve  if  the  horrid  tiling  should  touch 
them.  Now  and  then,  so  insidious  and  imperceptible  was 
its  oncoming,  we  found  ourselves  surrounded,  and  our 
startled  steeds  strained  away  for  the  shore,  prancing  and 
splashing  till  they  churned  the  flint-coloured  shallows 
white  with  foam.  A  few  more  minutes  would  bring  us 
abreast  of  the  great  overhanging  cliffs,  and  the  space  be- 
tween the  sea  and  shore  was  narrowing  always,  so  that 
presently  w^e  should  be  forced  up  under  them.  A  certain 
gravity  had  settled  upon  us,  there  was  a  look  of  expecta- 
tion on  our  faces,  and  we  pulled  up  abreast  of  each  other 
involuntarily,  Baldwin  and  all. 

"  I  confess  I  always  feel  awed,"  I  said,  with  an  uneasy 
little  cough,  but  Eugenia  did  not  appear  to  hear  me.  She 
was  sitting  straight,  with  her  head  held  high,  and  her 
eyes  wide  open,  listening  intently. 

"  Why  awed?  "  Brinkhampton  asked. 

"  The  ghosts,  my  lud,"  old  Baldwin  ejaculated. 

Brinkhampton  looked  about  him  with  a  superior  smile, 
and  certainly  anything  more  unlike  a  suitable  setting  as  a 
preparation  for  ghosts  than  this  slumberous  autumn  after- 
noon, with  its  stagnant  tranquillity  of  sky  and  sea  and 
shore,  could  not  have  been  arranged  ;  but  the  inappro- 
priate is  often  as  astounding  as  the  unexpected. 

And  now  suddenly  in  the  distance,  coming  apparently 
from  under  the  cliffs,  there  arose  a  dull,  muffled,  thudding 
sound.  The  horses  noticed  it  as  soon  as  we  did,  and 
pricked  their  ears  enquiringly.  They  had  been  going  at 
an  easy  canter,  but  in  order  to  gratify  their  curiosity  they 
relaxed  their  pace,  and  instantly  the  sound  ceased.     The 


40  EUGENIA. 

sudden  silence  startled  them  as  a  noise  might  have  done, 
and  with  one  accord  they  bounded  forward,  Brinkhampton 
being  nearly  unseated  by  the  njiexpected  move,  and  in- 
stantly the  thudding  recommenced,  drew  nearer,  and 
swelled  into  the  nnmistakable  throb  of  galloping  hoofs  on 
sand.  It  was  as  if  a  troop  of  cavalry  had  charged  us  in 
the  rear  and  w^as  just  npon  ns  to  ride  us  down.  The 
horses  broke  into  a  frantic  gallop,  and  Brinkhampton 
rising  to  it,  turned  his  head  and  looked  back  wdth  strain- 
ing: eves,  first  over  one  shonlder  and  then  over  the  other: 
but  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  even  when  the  sound 
was  just  upon  us,  deafening  us.  It  came  with  a  rush, 
touchins:  us  as  it  were,  and  that  instant  it  was  over.  The 
horses  stared  right  and  left,  at  the  same  time  slackening 
their  pace,  and  we  realised  a  strange  blank  as  of  an  empty 
space  in  that  region  of  consciousness  upon  which  the 
thundering  hoofs  had  sounded. 

Brinkhampton  was  the  first  to  speak,  after  gazing  up 
at  the  tall  cliffs  critically  :  "  I  suppose  it  is  an  echo,"  he 
said,  looking  hard  at  us  each  in  turn  as  if  he  expected  us 
to  deny  it.  "  And  the  legend  was  probably  invented  to 
account  for  the  echo,"  he  added. 

"  But  the  echo  does  not  account  for  the  failure  of  heirs 
male  in  my  famil}^,"  Eugenia  objected  drily. 

From  this  point  on,  however,  there  was  no  time  for  talk. 

"  If  we're  to  get  round  Towindard  'ead  we  mun  ride, 
missie,"  old  Baldwin  decided. 

"  And  if  we  don't  get  round?"  Brinkhampton  asked. 

"  We  must  climb  the  cliff  or  take  our  chance  with  the 
horses,"  Eugenia  answered  quietly.  "  Baldwin,  we  lead," 
she  said,  and  the  old  man  rode  on  with  her  on  the  off- 


^^'V^^ 


\  c.     or  EUGENIA.  41 

side,  beaming.  Eugenia  on  the  alert,  with  flushed  cheeks 
and  sparkling  eyes,  her  excitement  well-contained  beneath 
a  steady  calm  exterior,  was  lovely  to  behold  in  her  youth 
and  strength  as  she  passed  on  in  front,  and  set  the  pace. 
It  was  racing  speed  now,  going  against  the  tide  full-tilt. 
We  could  measure  the  rate  at  which  we  were  going  by  the 
lumbering  look  of  the  sea-bird's  flight  above  us — 

"  'Tis  a  glorious  race,  a  race  against  time, 
A  thousand  to  one  we  win  it  ?  " 

The  keen  salt  air  through  which  we  were  rushing,  meet- 
ing us  full  in  the  face,  had  freshened  us  at  first,  but  now  all 
at  once  I  became  aware  of  a  change  in  it,  and  quite  sud- 
denly, as  it  seemed  to  me,  the  sea-voice  sounded  muffled. 
The  change  in  the  air  was  from  dry  to  damp.  The  gauze 
veil  on  my  hat  was  dripping.  I  looked  up  to  see  how  far 
we  "were  from  the  headland.  The  headland  had  disap- 
peared— no,  though,  that  must  be  it  up  in  the  air  yonder, 
up  above  us  in  the  clouds — no,  again.  I  could  see  now. 
I  understood.  As  the  tide  flowed  in,  moisture  rose  to  the 
surface  of  the  sand,  making  the  whole  wide  expanse  into 
a  mirror,  and  it  had  seemed  at  the  first  glance  as  if  the 
sky  had  come  down  to  look  at  its  own  reflection  in  this; 
but  what  had  deceived  me  was  a  light  white  curtain  of 
mist,  drawn  up  by  the  heat  till  it  was  caught  in  a  cold 
current  of  air  \vhich  condensed  it  into  a  fog  that  was  rap- 
idly gathering  density  and  would  2)resently  envelop  us.  I 
was  behind  Eugenia,  but  could  see  by  her  attitude  that 
she  also  was  peering  into  the  distance  intently,  and  she 
raised  her  heavy  whip  and  held  it  suspended  over  her 
horse's  flank. 


42  EUGENIA. 

Baldwin  was  standing  up  in  liis  stirrups  and  keeping 
his  sliarp  old  eyes  about  him.  "  Stick  to  the  sea,  missie," 
he  commanded  in  his  hoarse  voice,  "  stick  to  the  sea  for 
your  life." 

We  met  the  mist  and  plunged  into  it.  There  was  no 
fancy  work  about  the  horses'  paces  now.  They  had 
buckled-to  in  spber  earnest,  with  ears  laid  back  and  heads 
stretched  out,  and  anxious  eyes  that  no  longer  glanced 
askance  at  the  treacherous  water  but  strained  on  into  the 
mist  as  intelligently  as  our  own.  It  was  the  snake-sea  to- 
day, swift  but  deceptive.  The  fog  had  gained  on  the 
headland  by  this  time ;  the  nearer  we  approached  the  less 
we  saw  of  it. 

"  For  your  life,  missie,  for  your  life,"  old  Baldwin  kept 
muttering  mechanically,  and  the  hoarse  growl  mingled 
with  the  mighty  murmur  of  ocean  appropriately :  "  For 
your  life,  missie,  for  your  life." 

We  were  well-mounted,  but  it  had  been  a  long  spin 
and  some  of  it  was  heavy  going,  and  now  the  horses  began 
to  flag  perceptibly.  Eugenia  swung  her  whip  round  her 
head  and  brought  it  down  swish  relentlessly.  The  horse 
responded  with  a  bound,  and  the  others,  animated  by  the 
effort,  followed  his  example. 

"  Surely  that  is  the  head  ?  "  Eugenia  cried.  We  looked 
up  simultaneously.  Something  certainly  loomed  black 
above  us. 

"  Stick  to  the  sea,  missie,  stick  to  the  sea-side  for  your 
life,"  old  Baldwin  roared.  There  were  ridges  of  rock  all 
about  here  under  the  cliffs  that  would  have  cost  us  many 
precious  minutes  had  we  come  upon  them. 

Eugenia  went  boldly  on,  but  we  were  late.     Splash — 


EUGENIA.  43 

helter-skelter — the  horses  were  scattering  the  shallow- 
water  now  and  inclined  to  baulk ;  but  down  came  that 
relentless  whip  again,  right  and  left,  we  following  the  ex- 
ample, and  once  more  the  mettlesome  brutes  responded 
gallantly.  And  now  there  was  less  helter-skelter  and  less 
splash.  The  leaders  were  up  to  their  knees.  Were  we 
silent?  Were  we  shouting?  That  last  wave  washed  up 
to  our  girths.  That  last  wave  was  a  seventh  wave.  Count 
six  more  slowly.  Supposing  they  are  taken  off  their  feet 
by  the  next,  could  they  swim  with  us  ?  Brinkhampton's 
horse  staggered  on  the  slippery  bottom  which  was  stony 
here,  mine  slipped  too — ugh !  what  a  sickening  sensation  ! 
now  he  went  down,  and  the  water  came  up  cold  about  me. 
Ugh,  again — splutter  !  what  a  ducking ! 

Silence  had  settled  upon  us — tlie  panting  silence  of 
suspense.  It  was  touch  and  go  whether  the  horses  would 
be  washed  away  or  not.  All  at  once,  however,  I  noticed  a 
change  in  the  tenseness  of  Eugenia's  attitude.  Surely 
she  is  bearing  away  to  the  right — she  is  out  of  the  water 
— we  are  following — we  are  splashing  through  shallows 
again — are  ceasing  to  splash.  The  horses  find  firm  foot- 
ing and  start  away  of  their  own  accord  for  a  final  spurt  of 
relief.  We  are  out  of  the  fog,  and  there  is  the  coach  wait- 
ing for  us.  Eugenia  pulled  up,  threw  her  reins  on  her 
horse's  neck,  dismounted,  and  stood,  smiling  and  satisfied, 
but  wet  through. 

"  We  shall  catch  our  death  of  cold  if  we  have  far  to  go 
in  these  clothes,"  Brinkhampton  exclaimed,  impatient  of 
this  discomfort. 

"  Pooh  !  salt  water  will  do  you  no  harm,"  Eugenia  re- 
joined. 

4 


44  EUGENIA. 

"  That  was  a  near  iin,  missie,"  old  Baldwin  observed. 
"  All  thowt  it  were  all  oop  wi'  us  twicest." 

"  It  was  one  of  our  best,  I  think,"  Eugenia  answered, 
"  and  I  was  agreeably  surprised,  for  I  was  afraid  it  was 
going  to  be  tame."  She  was  all  animation,  and  when  we 
had  taken  our  seats  on  the  coach  in  the  same  order  as  be- 
fore, she  addressed  Brinkhampton  in  the  bantering  tone 
they  used  to  each  other  as  a  rule :  "  Now  tell  me,"  she 
said,  "  after  this,  do  you  still  pretend  to  offer  me  in  ex- 
change the  vitiated  air  of  your  great  wicked  city,  and  the 
modest  pleasure  of  a  ride  in  the  How,  or  of  being  driven 
on  a  coach  by  way  of  squalid  Hammersmith  and  preten- 
tious Chiswick  to  eat  without  appetite  at  a  tawdry  hotel 
in  Kichmond  ?  " 

VIII. 

The  next  morning,  early,  I  was  writing  in  my  room 
upstairs  with  the  windows  wide  open,  when  I  suddenly 
became  aware  of  an  altercation  between  Eugenia  and 
Brinkhampton  on  the  lawn  below. 

They  went  off  together,  however,  with  every  evidence 
of  cordial  agreement  between  them ;  so  much  so,  indeed, 
that  I  sat  on  the  window-sill  long  after  they  had  crossed 
the  lawn  and  disappeared  among  the  trees,  once  more 
weighing  the  probabilities,  and  wondering  if  she  would 
accept  him. 

When  they  returned  together  to  lunch,  I  could  see 
that  something  had  happened,  but  as  they  were  both 
flushed  and  both  looked  discomfited,  I  fancied  there  had 
only  been  a  rather  more  serious  dispute  than  usual. 


EUGENIA. 


45 


Directly  lunch  was  over,  however,  Brinkhampton  an- 
nounced that  he  was  going  to  order  his  man  to  pack. 

"  Are  you  ot^  then  V  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I'm  off,"  he  answered  doggedly. 

*'  Now  why  should  you  go  ?  "  Eugenia  exclaimed. 

"  I  can  only  stay  here  on  one  condition,"  he  said  with 
severity. 

"  Well,  that  is  the  only  condition  on  which  I  can't  ask 
you  to  stay,"  she  answered  instantly.  "  But  I  do  think 
you  are  stupid  to  give  up  your  shooting  on  that  account." 

"  You  don't  appreciate  my  feelings,"  he  said  with  a 
hurt  air. 

"  I  hope  I  do,"  she  answered.  She  rose  from  the 
table  as  she  spoke,  brushed  a  crumb  from  the  front  of  her 
dress,  and  quietly  left  the  room. 

Then  Brinkhampton  looked  hard  and  inquiringly  at 
me.  ''  I  can't  think  you  have  prejudiced  her  against 
me,"  he  said. 

"  I  should  hojoe  not,"  was  my  dry  response. 

"But  have  you  said  anything  about  me  to  her?" 

"As  much  as  I  have  said  about  her  to  you?" 

"  Next  to  nothing,  that  is — then  how  does  she  know  ?  " 

"  If  she  does  know  anything  about  you,  she  must  have 
arrived  at  it  by  some  process  of  induction,"  I  answered, 
not  able  to  imagine  what  she  could  know. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  might  have  warned  me,"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  then  began  to  pace  the  room  with  agitated 
steps. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  to  blame,"  I  retorted  ironi- 
cally. "  It  would  doubtless  have  pleased  you  better  if  I 
had  told  you  all  I  know  about  her  opinions  and  character, 


46  EUGENIA. 

while  carefully  concealing  from  her  all  that  I  know  about 
yours." 

"  A  girl  has  no  business  to  have  opinions  of  any  kind, 
she  should  adopt  her  husband's  when  she  marries," 
Brinkhampton  ejaculated.  "  Nothing  but  mischief  comes 
of  women  thinking  for  themselves.  She  would  have  ac- 
cepted me  but  for  her  opinions."  He  reflected  a  little 
upon  this,  frowning  portentously,  and  then  broke  out 
again :  "  I've  been  regularly  taken  in  !  I  gave  her  the 
credit  of  being  a  nice  little  English  country  girl,  quite 
uninformed,  and  here  I  find  her  old  in  ideas  already  ;  and, 
worst  of  all,  advanced.  She  didn't  tell  me  coarsely  in  so 
many  words  to  my  face  that  I'm  not  good  enough  for  her, 
but,  by  Jove  !  that  is  what  she  meant.  She  says  she 
always  thinks  of  me  as  a  sort  of  man  out  of  a  novel  by 
Ouida.  What  on  earth  have  you  all  been  doing  to  let  her 
read  such  books  ?  " 

"  It  was  an  old  uncle  of  hers,  an  ex-guardsman  of 
your  own  corps,  by  the  way,"  I  rejoined,  "  who  first  in- 
troduced her  to  that  kind  of  literature.  He  used  to  give 
Eugenia  Ouida's  books  as  they  came  out,  with  the  em- 
phatic comment,  '  She  shows  'em  up  !  she  shows  'em  up  !' 
and  Eugenia,  after  careful  study  of  them,  has  drawn  her 
own  conclusions." 

He  pondered  upon  this  also  for  a  little,  and  then  re- 
sumed :  "  By  Jove !  I  was  astounded !  What  do  you 
think  she  said  to  me,  right  out  plump?  ' I  have  no  taste 
for  nursing,'  she  said,  '  and  you  are  so  delicate.'  '  Deli- 
cate ! '  I  exclaimed  in  astonishment.  '  Well,  you  require 
to  begin  your  day  on  wine,  you  know,'  she  said.  '  I  don't 
require  it,  I  take  it  because  I  like  it,'  I  said.     '  Oh,  then 


EUGENIA.  47 

you  are  self-indulgent,'  she  rejoined,  as  quick  as  thought, 
*  and  if  you  are  so  much  so  now,  the  weakness  will  grow 
upon  you  to  a  quite  dangerous  extent  by-and-by,  and 
gout  and  bad  temper  will  be  the  order  of  the  day.'  She 
said  it  lightly,  but,  by  Jove !  she  meant  it." 

"  Then  she  has  rejected  you  ?  " 

"  Emphatically  !  Yet  she  doesn't  see  why  I  shouldn't 
stay  and  finish  the  shooting !  " 

"  And  why  not  if  it  amuses  her  to  have  you  here  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me  in  tragic  disgust.  "  Would  you  have 
me  stay  here  simply  for  her  amusement  ?  "  he  thundered. 

"  Certainly,"  I  said.  "  It  is  merely  a  turning  of  the 
tables.  You  came  here  simply  for  your  own  benefit,  and 
in  return  the  least  you  can  do  is  to  stay  if  it  pleases  her 
to  ask  you." 

"  You  have  a  nice  consideration,  both  of  you,  for  my 
feelings  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Your  what,  Brinkhampton  ?  "  I  asked,  laughing. 

He  stood  before  me  a  moment,  trying  to  annihilate 
me  with  a  look,  and  then  stalked  straight  out  of  the  room. 

IX. 

"  So  you  have  rejected  him,"  I  said  when  next  I  saw 
Eugenia. 

She  was  taken  aback  at  first. 

"  So  he  has  told  you,"  she  ejaculated.  "  Well,  I  won- 
der if  he  thought  I  should  be  mean  enough  to  betray 
him !  I  asked  him  to  stay  on  simply  because  I  didn't 
want  you  to  suspect  that  I  had  had  to  humiliate  him  by 
refusing  him.     It  is  hateful    to   hurt   people's   feelings. 


48  EUGENIA. 

Besides,  as  a  guest,  I  like  him,  and,  further,  it  is  good  for 
that  kind  of  man  to  be  with  ladies." 

"  Then  you  are  by  way  of  elevating  his  tastes  if  pos- 
sible?" 

"  Oh,  by  all  means.  My  principle  is  to  do  anything 
honourable  for  that  kind  of  man  but  marry  him." 

I  was  silent,  and  she  reflected  for  a  little,  then  broke 
out  again :  "  He  said  I  did  not  appreciate  his  feelings, 
but  indeed  I  think  I  do — debts,  difficulties,  debilitated 
nerves,  and  everything  else  that  went  to  make  up  his 
motive  for  marrying  me.  Why,  when  I  engage  a  servant, 
he  has  to  have  a  character." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  he  cares  for  you  in  his  own 
way.     He  told  me  he  had  found  his  ideal  in  you." 

"  Very  likely,"  she  answered.  "  But  before  one  can 
feel  flattered  by  such  an  assertion,  it  is  necessary  to  know 
what  his  ideal  is — a  nice  quiet  little  thing,  I  fancy,  with 
lots  of  money,  and  no  inconvenient  intellectual  capacity." 

I  could  not  help  smiling,  she  had  gauged  him  so  ex- 
actly. 

"  But  he  is  not  my  ideal  at  all,"  she  pursued.  "  I  want 
Sir  Galahad,  and  Society  provides  me  with  Gawain,  or 
Lancelot  at  the  best,  when  all  my  longing  is  for  '  the 
blameless  king.' " 

"  I  wonder  where  you  will  find  your  ideal." 

"  In  Saxon  Wake,"  she  answered  instantly.  "  Bit  by 
bit  his  family  have  been  developing  every  quality  in  which 
my  own  was  deficient.  For  hundreds  of  years  the  two 
have  been  living  here  side  by  side,  ours  slowly  deterio- 
rating, losing  by  degrees  much  of  what  they  possessed, 
his,  by  their  virtues,  as  gradually  acquiring  what  we  lost. 


EUGENIA.  49 

Compare  Saxon's  father  with  Uncle  Paul,  for  instance  ! 
and  Saxon's  career  with  Lord  Brinkhampton's !  not  to 
mention  their  respective  abilities.  Give  me  him  for  a 
husband  ! " 

"  Whom  ? "    said    Saxon   himself,  coming  round  the 

corner. 

"  You,"  she  blurted  out,  turning  crimson.  "  Why 
don't  you  care  for  me,  Saxon  ?  "  she  went  on  desperately 
— on  the  in-for-a-penny-in-for-a-pound  principle,  I  sup- 
pose. "  Why  won't  you  ask  me  to  marry  you  ?  But  I 
know.  You  will  leave  me  lonely  and  miserable  for  all 
my  life  just  because  I  am  richer  than  you  are."  She 
wrung  her  hands  as  she  spoke,  and  the  young  man,  who 
had  stopped  short,  flushed  and  turned  pale,  looking  from 
her  to  me  in  confusion. 

"  I  hope  he  has  more  sense,"  I  cried,  flinging  the 
words  at  him  as  I  fled. 

X. 

Whejt  I  returned  to  the  house,  there  was  a  carriage  at 
the  door,  and  I  found  Brinkhampton  ready  to  depart. 

"  I  suppose  there  is  really  no  chance  for  me  ? "  he 
said,  in  the  dubious  tone  of  one  who  is  still  venturing 
to  hope. 

"  No,  none,"  I  answered.  "  Eugenia  has  just  proposed 
to  Saxon  Wake,  and  I  left  her  trying  to  persuade  him  to 
accept  her.  It  seems  that  he  has  some  scruples  on  ac- 
count of  the  difference  of  wealth  and  position." 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  Brinkhampton  ejaculated,  quite  for- 
getting himself.  "  If  this  is  your  modern  maiden,  then 
give  me  a  good  old-fashioned  womanly  woman,  who  knows 


50  EUGENIA. 

nothing  and  cares  less  so  long  as  you  put  her  in  a  good 
position  and  let  her  have  lots  of  money.  But " — he  looked 
hard  at  me — "  you  are  joking,  surely." 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  I  said. 

"  And  you  approve.     I  can  see  you  do." 

*'  Yes,  I  do,"  I  answered,  "  under  the  circumstances." 

The  roar  of  the  rolling  spheres,  astronomers  say,  is  so 
tremendous  as  to  be  beyond  the  hearing  of  our  mortal 
ears ;  and  so  the  sudden  upward  impulse  of  the  human 
race  in  this  our  day,  as  shown  in  the  attitude  of  women, 
is  beyond  the  earthbound  comprehension  of  most  men. 
Brinkhampton  could  conceive  of  nothing  more  eligible 
for  a  husband  than  a  man  of  good  manners  with  a  fine 
position.  He  stood  for  some  seconds  looking  down  at  his 
boots  after  I  had  spoken  as  if  considering,  but  nothing 
came  of  it  except  another  withering  glance,  the  last  token 
with  which  he  favoured  me — poor  fellow,  as  Eugenia  said. 

We  were  standing  beside  a  table  in  the  hall  on  which 
his  covert  coat  lay,  and  now  he  picked  it  up,  put  orchis 
hat,  took  one  last  look  round  as  if  bidding  farewell  to  the 
comfortable  possessions  he  had  been  so  confident  of  mak- 
ing his  own,  then  walked  straight  out,  got  into  the  car- 
riage without  another  word,  and  was  driven  away. 

And  now  I  hear  he  says  the  most  unpleasant  things 
about  myself  and  Mrs.  Saxon  Wake,  but  happily  Eugenia's 
maternal  duties  are  too  all-engrossing  to  allow  her  to 
trouble  herself  about  idle  gossip  from  that  section  of 
society  which,  as  her  Uncle  Paul  maintains,  "  Ouida 
shows  up." 

Knowing  the  curious  fatality  which  had  befallen  the 
sons  of  her  family  ever  since  that  legendary  curse  was  pro- 


EUGENIA.  51 

nounced  upon  them,  I  had  a  horrid  qualm  one  day  as  I 
sat  watching  her  playing  with  her  baby-boy. 

"  He  looks  strong  enough,"  slipped  from  me  inadvert- 
ently. 

Eugenia  smiled. 

"  You  are  thinking  about  the  curse,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  thought  a  great  deal  about  it  myself  since  tliis 
young  gentleman  arrived,  and  I  believe  I  see  the  mistake 
we  women  have  all  made  in  the  choice  of  our  husbands. 
It  is  a  universal  mistake.  AVe  admired  mere  animal  cour- 
age in  a  man  which  is  only  one  form  of  courage,  instead 
of  requiring  moral  courage,  which  includes  every  other 
kind — until  I  came.  But  I  chose  my  husband  for  his 
moral  qualities." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  have " 

"  I  am  sure  I  have,"  she  concluded.  "  I  have  removed 
the  curse  unawares." 


THE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

PART  I. 

"  For  if  they  do  these  things  in  a  green 
tree,  what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry  ?  " 

I. 

*'  There  will  be  no  one  to  see  you  o£E  to-day,  as  I  can- 
not go  myself,"  my  mother  said ;  "  but  I  suppose  if  I  send 
you  to  the  station  in  the  carriage  you  will  be  able  to  man- 
age ;  and,  now  that  you  are  out,  the  sooner  you  learn  to 
look  after  yourself  the  better." 

"  All  right,"  I  replied  confidently,  under  the  impres- 
sion that  I  had  very  little  to  learn.  And  so  it  happened 
that,  on  this  particular  occasion  in  my  early  girlhood,  I 
found  myself,  with  the  most  delightful  sense  of  impor- 
tance, travelling  from  London  seawards,  alone.  The  sen- 
sation was  more  than  agreeable — it  was  ecstatic.  On  the 
way  to  the  station  I  felt  as  if  I  had  never  been  in  a  car- 
riage before.  I  was  looking  at  life  from  a  new  point  of 
view,  and  the  people  in  the  streets  seemed  to  see  me  as  I 
saw  myself — at  least  I  fancied  that  their  eyes  expressed  a 
different  feeling  for  me  from  any  that  had  ever  shone  on 
me  before;  but  I  did  not  try  to  translate  it.  Being 
pleased  and  happy  myself,  it  seemed  only  natural  that  a 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  53 

pleased  and  happy  expression  should  come  into  every  face 
that  was  turned  towards  me. 

Having  arrived  at  the  station,  found  my  train,  and  se- 
cured a  seat,  I  began  to  loiter  up  and  down  the  long  plat- 
form, ostensibly  watching  the  people,  but  really,  witli  the 
happy  conceit  of  youth,  absorbed  in  myself,  as  it  appears 
to  me  now ;  yet  it  was  not  altogether  conceit,  but  rather 
the  blissful  absence  of  that  sense  of  comparison  which 
comes  later  on  with  chastening  effect  to  show  us  our  own 
unimportance.  The  sudden  sense  of  freedom  had  re- 
vealed me  to  myself  all  out  of  focus,  as  it  were,  and  mag- 
nified, as  objects  appear  at  first  to  one  who  has  just  re- 
covered his  sight ;  and  I  believe  if  I  had  done  a  portrait 
of  myself  at  that  moment  I  should  have  made  myself 
seven  feet  high. 

But  pride  goeth  before  a  fall,  and  I  was  brought  up 
out  of  this  happy  state  with  a  jerk  which  effectually  upset 
the  dignity  of  my  demeanour.  I  had  perceived  that  the 
train  was  in  motion,  and  it  flashed  through  my  mind  that 
it  was  being  inconsiderate  enough  to  depart  without  me. 
As  it  was  the  last  one  in  the  day  that  would  suit  my  pur- 
pose, I  made  a  desperate  dash  for  a  carriage  door,  and 
scrambled  in,  regardless  of  the  howling  officials  on  the 
platform  who  would  have  hindered  me.  In  doing  so  I 
became  aware  of  exactly  the  same  performance  taking 
place  at  the  farther  end  of  the  compartment ;  it  was  as  if 
I  had  caught  a  flying  glimpse  of  myself  in  a  mirror  as  I 
jumped  on  to  the  footboard,  opened  the  door,  and  swung 
myself  in,  after  the  deliberate  manner  peculiar  to  guards 
on  the  Underground.  But,  as  often  happens,  although 
I  had  seen  the  thing  done,  the  fact  did  not  rise  from  my 


54  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

sub-consciousness  to  the  surface  of  my  thoughts,  in  order 
to  present  itself  for  my  consideration,  for  some  time  after 
I  had  taken  my  seat. 

The  train  slid  out  of  the  dingy  station,  and  now  every- 
thing was  of  interest.  I  even  strained  my  eyes  to  read 
the  advertisements  paraded  on  blank  brick  walls,  corners 
of  squalid  houses,  parapets  and  arches  of  railway  bridges, 
any-  and  everywhere,  till  my  brain  reeled. 

But  then  came  a  glimpse  of  the  river.  The  unpolluted 
summer  air  streamed  in  upon  me.  The  summer  sun- 
shine, unthinned  by  smoke,  lit  u]^  the  landscape,  sparkled 
on  the  water,  brightened  the  blue  of  the  sky,  whitened 
the  clouds,  reddened  the  roofs,  intensified  the  green,  and 
fl.ooded  my  whole  soul  with  another  kind  of  joy  in  life, 
very  different  from  that  which  I  had  just  been  experi- 
encing". There  had  been  excitement  in  the  crowd,  but 
here  alone  there  was  supreme  content. 

It  was  a  torrid  day;  but  Fate  had  befriended  me, 
for  it  was  a  cushionless  third-class  compartment  I  had 
stormed,  all  open  and  airy,  and  also  empty,  as  I  at  first 
supposed ;  but  in  this  I  was  mistaken.  There  had  been 
nobody  visible  to  begin  with,  but,  on  looking  across  after 
a  while,  I  was  surprised  to  see  a  pair  of  bright  dark  eyes 
just  appearing  above  the  backs  of  the  seats,  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  compartment.  These  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me 
in  a  confident  way ;  and  involuntarily  I  felt,  the  moment 
they  met  mine,  that  a  flash  of  intelligence  had  passed  be- 
tween us.  The  immediate  consequence  was,  that  the 
owner  of  the  eyes,  a  lanky,  dark  girl,  got  up,  fixed  a  strug- 
gling bull  pup  under  her  arm,  where  she  held  it  firmly  in 
spite  of  its  kicks  and  yelps  and  snaps,  clambered  clumsily 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  55 

over  the  backs  of  the  seats  from  her  end  of  the  compart- 
ment to  mine,  regardless  of  any  disphiy  she  might  make 
of  lean  legs  by  the  way,  and  sat  down  op^iosite  to  me. 

"  Two's  company,"  she  remarked  oracularly. 

"  Quite  so ;  but  you  were  two  to  begin  with,"  I  an- 
swered. 

*'  Counting  the  bull  pup,"  she  said,  drawing  the  crea-, 
ture  from  under  her  arm  as  she  spoke.  "  Isn't  he  a  beau- 
ty ?  "  She  held  him  up  by  the  forelegs,  and  shook  him 
playfully,  addressing  him  the  while  in  tender  tones: 
"  Look  at  urn's  chin,  and  urn's  legs  how  um  bows ;  and 
look  at  um's  worry  magnificent  nose  ! " 

But  the  puppy,  evidently  not  appreciating  these  compli- 
ments, began  again  to  kick  and  growl  and  snap  impatiently, 
exercises  which  drew  from  his  delighted  mistress  assur- 
ances that  "  he  was  a  game  un,  den  ! "  as  she  settled  him 
comfortably  upon  her  lap.  He  was  already  a  formidable- 
looking  creature,  a  brindle  of  exceptional  beauty,  judged, 
of  course,  by  his  own  standard  of  excellence. 

"  I  bought  him,"  the  young  lady  proceeded,  "  to  draw 
Aunt  Marsh.  I  want  to  make  her  believe  that  the  out- 
come of  Woman's  Rights  is  bull  pups.  But  now  I'm  be- 
ginning to  love  him — a  beauty,  den  I — for  his  own  sake. 
What  a  nuisance  it  is  metaphors  will  mix !  I  was  just 
going  to  remark  that  Aunt  Marsh  is  the  kind  of  bull  you 
must  take  by  the  horns  if  you  would  get  on  with  her  ; 
and  that's  what  I  mean,  only  it  isn't  quite  right,  some- 
how. Now,  my  mother  is  sixty  thousand  times  cleverer 
than  Aunt  Marsh,  yet  she  gives  in  to  her — they're  sisters- 
in-law,  you  know — but  I'm  a  generation  in  advance  of  my 
mother,  thank  goodness  I " 


56  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

"  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  I  observed,  "  that  I  believe  I 
know  your  Aunt :  Lady  Marsh,  is  she  not?" 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  pitying  smile.  "  Yes,  that's 
the  person,"  she  answered.  "  But,  now,  do  you  supj^ose 
that  I'm  quite  such  an  idiot  as  to  express  myself  so  freely 
to  a  stranger  of  whom  I  know  nothing  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  you  have  the  advantage  of  me,  for  I  am 
quite  sure  I  have  never  seen  you  before,  nor  have  I  ever 
heard  of  anything  like  you." 

"  Anything  like  me !  Now,  that's  delicious.  But  you 
mean  who  am  I  ?  I  can't  abide  that  roundabout  way  of 
asking  who  a  body  is.  But  I'll  tell  you  who  I  am,  just 
because  you're  not  egotistical." 

"  How  have  you  discovered  that  I'm  not  egotistical  ?  " 
I  asked. 

"  Because  you  thought  first  of  me  rather  than  of  what 
concerned  yourself.  Most  people  would  have  wanted  to 
find  out  what  I  knew  about  them,  and  until  I  told  them 
they  wouldn't  have  taken  any  interest  in  me." 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me " 

"  Oh,  I'm  Adalesa  Shutt,"  she  interrupted  offhand. 
"  Adalesa  Shutt-up  is  the  form  it  genei^ally  takes  with  the 
impolite.  I  may  mention  that  my  parents  are  responsible 
for  the  name.     They  still  survive." 

There  was  a  pause  after  this,  during  which  she  hugged 
her  brindle  bull  dog  absently,  with  her  dark  eyes  fixed  on 
a  far-away  point  of  the  horizon. 

While  under  the  influence  of  her  bright,  sharp,  slangy 
manner  as  she  talked,  I  had  supposed  her  to  be  about 
fifteen.  She  wore  her  dress  short,  and  her  hair  hanging 
down  her  back  in  a  thick  plait,  as  girls  of  that  age  gener- 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  57 

ally  do ;  but  now,  as  she  sat  silently  contemplative,  she 
looked  older. 

"  But  why  should  you  '  draw '  your  aunt,  as  you  call 
it  ?  "  burst  from  me  involuntarily,  as  I  watched  her. 

She  turned  upon  me  with  her  infectious  smile.  "  It 
is  the  only  possible  attitude  for  me  in  her  abode,"  she 
said — "  a  don't-care-came-to-be-hanged  kind  of  attitude. 
I  daren't  be  docile  or  affectionate,  because  I  have  to  keep 
her  at  a  distance,  otherwise  she  would  give  me  good  advice. 
She  did  make  me  suffer  the  first  time  I  stayed  with  her!" 

»  But " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  all  that,"  she  put  in  impatiently. 
"  She's  the  kindest  woman  in  the  world,  you  were  going 
to  say.  Everybody  says  so.  But  just  you  observe !  I 
would  rather  have  a  termagant  to  fight.  One  wouldn't 
be  afraid  of  hurting  her.  But  these  soft,  sweet  women 
bruise  so  easily,  they  make  you  suffer  all  round.  There 
are  your  nerves  and  your  better  nature  both  on  the  alert, 
while  your  good  sense  is  being  outraged,  and  your  worst 
self  is  fighting  to  be  up  in  opposition.  Heaven  help  me 
from  having  to  encounter  a  feather-bed  woman  !  " 

"  But  how  did  she  make  you  suffer  ?  " 

"  Oh — I'll  show  you  when  we  arrive." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  am  going  there  ?  "  I  asked  in 
surprise. 

Again  she  looked  at  me  and  laughed,  but  only  re- 
peated :  "  I'll  show  you  when  we  get  there.  Mind  you,  I 
don't  suffer  now." 

The  train  pulled  up  at  a  little  country  station  as  she 
spoke,  and  we  both  alighted.  An  open  carriage  was  wait- 
ing outside  for  us. 


58  THE   YELLOW  LEAF. 

"All,  there  is  my  frieud  Barkins,"  Adalesa  exclaimed, 
meaning  the  coachman,  "/'w  going  to  drive,  Barkins — 
Barkins  bein'  willin',"  she  added  aside  to  me. 

"  You  and  John  must  go  inside,"  she  further  insisted, 
"  because  Mademoiselle  here  only  sits  on  the  box.  She 
always  travels  third  class,  and  sits  on  the  box.  Those  are 
her  ladyship's  orders.  I  have  them  here  in  my  pocket " 
— and  she  slapped  that  receptacle. 

The  coachman  hesitated,  and  looked  at  me  as  if  for 
confirmation,  but  I  preserved  my  gravity.  The  misstate- 
ment Adalesa  had  made  with  regard  to  my  usual  mode  of 
travelling  led  me  to  infer  that  the  rest  of  the  story  was 
rather  more  facetious  than  accurate ;  but  I  would  not 
have  betrayed  her  for  the  world.  I  wanted  to  see  what 
next. 

The  coachman  slowly  descended  from  his  box,  keeping 
a  wary  eye  on  Adalesa  all  the  time,  as  if  he  were  seeking 
a  sign  for  his  guidance,  or  suspected  firearms.  As  he  de- 
scended on  the  one  side,  however,  she  scrambled  up  on 
the  other,  and  when  she  had  seated  herself  he  handed  her 
the  reins.  I  had  followed  her  on  to  the  box,  so  that  there 
was  nothing  now  but  for  him  and  the  footman  to  get  into 
the  carriage. 

"  You'd  better  put  the  luggage  in  too,"  Adalesa  sug- 
gested ;  and  it  was  with  a  look  of  relief  that  the  men 
complied.  "  Otherwise,"  she  whispered  to  me,  "  any  one 
meeting  the  carriage,  and  seeing  you  and  me  on  the  box, 
driving  the  servants,  might  have  mistaken  us  for  a  trav- 
elling lunatic  asylum." 

"  N'ot  such  a  very  great  mistake,  perhaps,  after  all,"  I 
ventured. 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  59 

*'  Oh,  my  dear,  speak  for  yourself,"  slie  promptly  re- 
joined; "as  for  me,  there's  a  method,  you  know." 

She  put  the  bull  pup  between  her  feet  as  she  spoke, 
and  tightened  the  reins ;  and  then  we  were  off — not  at  a 
wild  gallop,  as  I  quite  expected,  but  at  that  rapid,  exhila- 
rating trot  at  which  only  a  good  whip  can  keep  a  good 
pair  of  horses.  I  understood  the  coachman's  easy  acquies- 
cence better  now.  It  was  evident  that  the  girl  was  ac- 
customed to  drive.  She  had  that  negligent  look  and  atti- 
tude, and  apparently  careless  way  of  holding  the  reins, 
which  betoken  mastery  of  the  art.  The  road  itself  she 
scarcely  seemed  to  see.  Her  e3"es  wandered  away  from  it 
on  all  sides,  and  at  that  moment  one  would  have  said  they 
were  dreamy  eyes,  seeking  sharp  contrasts  of  sunshine  and 
shadow  less  than  mystical  effects  of  dimness  and  distance. 

The  drive  left  impressions  in  my  mind  of  a  dusty  road 
with  heavy  frondage  of  ferns  by  the  wayside,  all  drooping, 
as  though  wearied  and  reposing  from  the  ardent  summer 
heat.  Then  there  came  a  fertile  land  well  wooded ;  the 
sheen  of  a  copper  beech  ;  low  hills  lifting  a  belt  of  sombre 
pines  up  to  the  azure  of  the  sky  ;  the  grey- white  wool  of 
sheep  against  the  green  of  grass ;  the  reflection  of  indolent 
cattle  standing  ankle-deep  in  a  pool ;  the  heavy  foliage  on 
overhanging  boughs  ;  bracken  on  the  banks,  and  wild 
flowers  everywhere.  Adalesa  pointed  out  two  objects  of 
interest  with  her  whip :  "  Those  chimneys  there  in  the 
wood — you  can  see  the  smoke  above  the  trees — that  is  the 
house.  And  there,  beyond,  don't  you  see?  that  shining 
line,  that  is  the  sea — the  sea  ! "  She  drew  in  licr  breath 
as  if  the  very  word  were  a  joy  to  her.  But  presently  she 
burst  out  again  in  her  usual  w\ay : 
6 


60  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

"  I  should  think  you  feel  like  a  figure  in  a  farce,"  she 
said,  on  seeing  me  glance  behind  at  the  servants  sitting 
solemnly  with  folded  arms  and  their  backs  to  the  horses, 
opposite  our  trunks,  which  arrogantly  occupied  the  other 
seat. 

Then  we  entered  the  Chase,  and  began  to  catch 
glimpses  of  a  great  house  among  the  trees.  Some  places 
have  an  aspect  of  self-denial  impressed  upon  every  feature ; 
as  you  approach  they  seem  to  insist  that  you  shall  ob- 
serve the  economies  they  have  had  to  practise ;  but  here  it 
was  just  the  opposite.  There  was  a  self-indulgent,  spick- 
and-span,  affluent  air  about  everything. 

"  Oh  !  "  Adalesa  exclaimed,  "  I  begin  to  feel  feather 
bedding  about,  don't  you?  Nasty  unwholesome  stuffy 
thing,  feather  bedding.  Aunt  Marsh  is  by  way  of  soften- 
ing me,  rubbing  off  the  rough  edges,  don't  you  know. 
Just  you  watch !  " 

11. 

Lady  Marsh  must  have  heard  the  crunch  of  carriage 
wheels  as  we  drew  up  at  the  door,  for  she  came  hurrying 
down  to  meet  us ;  but  the  men-servants  had  hopped  out 
alertly,  and  w^e  ourselves  had  descended  from  the  box 
before  she  appeared,  so  that  I  doubt  if  she  ever  knew  how 
we  had  come. 

"  Do  come  in,  dears  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Come  to  the 
drawing-room  and  have  some  tea.  Evangeline  is  out. 
She  will  be  so  sorry.  She  had  to  go  for  a  ride,  but  of 
course  she  expected  to  be  back  in  time,  only  one  can't 
always  calculate.     Dear  children!    I  am  so  glad  to  see 


THE  YELLOW   LEAF.  61 

you.     Why,  you  seem  to  have  grown,  Adalesa.     You  are 
certainly  taller  and — and  slimmer." 

"  Longer  and  lankier,"  Adalesa  translated  cheerfully. 

"  But  isn't  your  dress  just  a  little  short,  dearest,  for 
your  age  ? "  Lady  Marsh  ventured  in  the  gentlest  way, 
when  we  were  seated.  She  was  known  as  "  a  siceet  woman," 
"  one  of  those  whom  it  is  restful  to  recall  " ;  and  I  was 
not  at  all  pleased  to  find  that  that  seed  of  corruption,  the 
trick  of  absurdly  associating  her  with  feather  beds,  had 
taken  root  in  my  mind ;  but  it  had,  and  there  it  remains. 

"  Long  dresses  !  "  Adalesa  ejaculated  :  "  no,  thank  you  ! 
I  know  what  is  expected  of  long  dresses." 

"Dignity,  is  it  not,  dear?"  her  aunt  ventured,  with  a 
deprecating  smile. 

*'  Yes,"  Adalesa  groaned  ;  "  and  dignity,  they  say,  is  a 
mysterious  carriage  of  the  body  to  cover  defects  of  the 
mind." 

Lady  Marsh  sat  down  at  the  tea-table,  and  began  to 
pour  out  tea.  "  But,  you  see,  dear,  men  say  such  things," 
she  replied,  in  her  gentle  way. 

"  Ah — men  !  "  Adalesa  drawled.  "  You  see,  I  haven't 
made  up  my  mind  to  like  men  yet — a  man,  perhaps, 
eventually — but  men!  too  conceited,  you  know." 

"  Dear  child !  what  do  ijou  know  about  men  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  nothing,"  was  the  candid  rejoinder;  "and 
that's  why  I  wear  short  dresses.  I  want  to  study  man, 
and  he  only  shows  himself  to  short  frocks.  He's  off 
guard  with  them.  But  I'll  find  him  out !  My  angles  fit 
me  for  the  task.  Thank  heaven  for  my  angles !  No 
man  who  looks  at  me  will  think  of  me  as  a  young  lady, 
that  most  awful  of  human  weaknesses." 


62  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

"  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  speak  in  that  flippant  way, 
dear,"  her  aunt  deprecated.  "  The  man  is  the  head  of 
the  woman,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  sometimes,"  said  Adalesa,  judicially ;  "  and 
sometimes  he  isn't,  because  the  woman  is  a  long  way 
ahead  of  him.  But  the  rule  is  much  of  a  muchness,  I 
believe." 

"Well,  then,  it  would  be  a  case  of  two  heads  are 
better  than  one  in  a  household,"  her  aunt  answered,  good- 
humouredly. 

"  Or  too  many  cooks  spoil  the  broth — you  never 
know,"  came  the  ready  response.  "  But  where's  my 
pup?"  she  broke  off;  then  rushed  from  the  room,  ex- 
claiming that  she'd  forgotten  him. 

"  That  child's  cleverness  is  quite  phenomenal,"  Lady 
Marsh  remarked  when  she  had  disappeared.  "  But,  oh 
dear,  it  is  all  so  terrible — so  very  wrong-headed,  you 
know !  And  " — stooping  over  to  speak  in  an  undertone, 
as  if  the  matter  were  not  quite  delicate — "  I  am  afraid  it 
is  all  my  poor  sister's  fault.  She  is  so  sadly  what  they 
call  '  advanced  ' — woman's  rights,  the  suffrage,  short  hair, 
and  all  that,  you  know." 

Lady  Marsh  spoke  in  a  confidential  tone,  very  flatter- 
ing to  a  young  girl  from  a  woman  of  her  age  and  station, 
and  also  flattering  in  that  it  was  natural  to  infer  from  it 
that  she  thought  I  had  been  brought  up  in  a  superior 
manner. 

Adalesa  returned  with  the  bull  pup  under  her  arm. 
"  Isn't  he  siveet  9  "  she  demanded,  putting  him  down,  and 
making  him  run  towards  her  aunt. 

"  No ! "   Lady  Marsh  exclaimed,  drawing  her  skirts 


or  THE  \ 

^NIYER8(T< 

^^  THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  03 

togetnei'  lest  he  should  touch  her — "  anything  but  sweet. 
Oh ! — do  take  him  away !  How  could  you  bring  such  a 
dreadful  creature  here  ?  " 

"  Dreadful  creature  ! "  Adalesa  repeated  in  an  injured 
tone ;  then  picking  up  her  grotesque  pet  she  hugged  him 
like  a  mother  whose  babe  has  just  been  insulted.  "  And 
I  thouglit Well,  if  it  is  womanly  to  be  so  hard-heart- 
ed, I'd  rather  not  be  womanly."  She  tossed  her  head 
haughtily  when  she  had  spoken,  and  managed  to  look 
both  hurt  and  offended. 

"  My  dear  child,"  Lady  Marsh  cried  in  consternation, 
"  what  have  I  done  ?  You  don't  expect  me  to  like  that 
dreadful  creature  ?  I  should  be  ashamed  to  have  it  seen 
about  the  house.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  gentlewoman  pet- 
ting such  a " 

Adalesa  uttered  a  little  scream.  "  Don't — don't  say 
nasty  things  about  him.  I  shall  hate — amj  one — who 
doesn't  appreciate  him."  She  drew  herself  up,  glanced 
at  me,  and  walked  with  dignity  out  of  the  room. 

"  Well ! "  Lady  Marsh  exclaimed  for  the  second  time. 
"  Now,  you  see,  my  dear,  what  comes  of  this  nonsense — 
taking  women  out  of  their  proper  sphere  and  all  that ! " 

"  Do  you  mean,"  I  began,  "  that  you  think  a  fondness 

for  bull  pups "     But  here  I  checked   myself,  for  I 

perceived  that  I  was  inadvertently  playing  into  the  hands 
of  the  wicked  Adalesa. 

On  my  way  upstairs  to  dress  for  dinner,  I  discovered 
that  young  person's  dark  head  inserted  in  a  doorway, 
round  which  she  was  peering.  "  Come  in  and  kiss  my 
pup,"  she  said,  persuasively,  looking  at  me  with  languish- 
ing eyes. 


64,  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

"  Tell  me,"  I  said,  ignoring  this  last  impertinence, 
"  Tell  me  how  much  of  your  late  misconduct  was  by  way 
of  '  drawing '  your  aunt,  and  how  much  was " 

"Innate  cussedness?"  she  suggested. 

"  Innate  cussedness,"  I  gravely  repeated. 

"  Oh — you  pays  your  money,  et  cmtera,^^  she  answered 
easily.  "  But  I'm  dressed  and  you're  not,"  she  proceeded ; 
"  and  you're  late.    Let  me  go  to  your  room  and  help  you." 

I  led  the  way,  smiling  a  little  to  myself  as  I  pictured 
the  sort  of  help  I  thought  I  might  expect  from  her  ;  but 
I  soon  found  I  was  utterly  mistaken  in  my  surmise.  I 
had  imagined  her  awkward  and  inefficient,  but  found 
her  deftness  itself,  and,  what  is  more,  she  was  kind.  It 
was  loving  service  that  she  did  me  when  she  laughed  at 
some  inartistic  arrangement  of  ornaments  I  had  devised 
for  my  hair,  threw  the  artificial  things  aside,  and  clev- 
erly replaced  them  with  fresh  and  fragrant  flowers.  She 
certainly  did  her  best  to  make  the  most  of  me,  but  all 
the  time  how  she  talked  ! 

"When  I  first  saw  you  to-day  I  thought  you  were 
older  than  I  am,"  she  said,  "  but  it  seems  you  are  younger. 
You  say  such  wise  things,  though,  and  look  so  grave,  it's 
easy  to  be  mistaken.  But  now  I  see  you  are  only  a  babe 
with  a  big  head,  and  you  want  a  lot  of  attention.  You'll 
have  to  go  through  a  period  of  feather-bedasia,  and  you'll 
suffer ;  but  don't  be  disheartened.  Just  do  as  I  do.  Be 
vulgar,  buy  a  bull  pup,  and  chatter." 

"  I  don't  in  the  least  see  what  I'm  to  suffer  from,"  I 
protested.     "  Your  aunt  is  charming." 

"Yes,"  she  rejoined  with  a  groan;  "didn't  I  warn 
you  that  she  was  ?  " 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  65 

"  And  as  for  your  cousin  Evangeline " 

"  Now,  stop,"  she  interrupted.  "  I  won't  let  you  com- 
mit yourself  to  that  stupid  fallacy.  Evangeline  isn't 
charming.  I  am  the  reaction  from  feather-bedasia ;  she 
is  the  consequence  of  it ;  and  she's  a  pig." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all,"  I  answered  decidedly; 
"  and  I  should  think  I  know  as  much  about  her  as  you 
do,  for  we  were  at  school  together;  and  she  was  most 
popular  with  all  the  girls." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Adalesa  answered,  imitating  her  aunt. 
"  She  has  such  pretty  manners,  as  Aunt  Marsh  says,  '  so 
gentle,  so  refined,  so  unaffected ' — a  whole  string  of  ad- 
jectives, a  set  formula  that  has  been  flung  at  me — no,  I 
should  say,  gently  insisted  icpon  for  my  benefit  so  often 
that  I  am  not  likely  to  forget  it.  And  then  she  always 
promised  to  be  a  beauty,  I  suppose,  which  must  have 
added  greatly  to  her  prestige  with  girls  at  school.  But 
all  the  same,  she's  a  pig.  Why  wasn't  she  here  to  receive 
us  to-day?" 

"  Her  mother  said  she  had  had  to  ride " 

"  Her  mother  ought  to  know  better  than  to  excuse 
her.  It  was  a  fine  day,  and  Evangeline  thought  it  would 
be  more  amusing  to  go  for  a  ride  than  to  come  in  the 
carriage  to  meet  us ;  so  she  went,  and  she  has  not  yet  re- 
turned ;  and  that  is  Evangeline  all  over.  Oh,  I  know 
her !  And  so  would  you  if  you'd  ever  been  here  before. 
Have  you,  by  the  way  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  knew  all  about  me  !  You  seemed  to 
say  so  in  the  train  to-day." 

"  I  knew  your  name  and  address,  for  I  read  them  on 
the  luggage  you  were  looking  after  when  you  came  into 


QQ  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

tlie  station,"  she  answered,  with  charming  candour.  "  I 
saw  you  peacocking  about  as  if  you  were  somebody,  and, 
as  your  belongings  were  deposited  under  my  eyes,  I  had 
the  curiosity  to  look  and  see.  If  I  hadn't  known  that  you 
^vcYe  coming  here  you  wouldn't  have  had  the  honour  of 
making  my  acquaintance  so  early  in  the  day,  for,  although 
free  with  my  friends,  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  picking  up 
any  goodness-knows-who  for  a  travelling  companion." 

"Aren't  you?"  I  said  in  surprise.  "I  should  have 
thought " 

"  You  would  have  thought !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You 
innocent  babe !  You  haven't  learnt  to  think  yet.  But 
you  are  very  entertaining.  I  nearly  missed  my  train 
watching  you.  You  w^ere  so  smily  and  pleased  with  your- 
self and  everybody  else,  anybody  could  see  it  was  the  first 
time  you'd  ever  been  on  your  own  hook.  My,  what  a 
blush  !  It's  running  all  down  your  back.  Well,  forgive 
me  !  I  didn't  mean  to  wound  your  pride.  But  you're 
too  sensitive,  my  dear — as  sensitive  as  you're  simple,  and 
as  transparent.  Those  who  run  might  read  your  every 
emotion ;  and  that  would  be  rapid  reading  too,  for  you 
suffer  from  a  singular  variety  of  emotions  in  a  short 
time." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  singularly  acute  young  person,"  I 
observed,  bridling. 

"  Well,  yes,"  she  rejoined,  with  unvarying  cheerful- 
ness, "  I  am  sharp,  very."  She  stood  off  as  she  spoke  to 
see  the  effect  of  a  big  bow  she  had  pinned  on  my  dress ; 
adding,  as  she  looked,  with  her  head  on  one  side,  "  So  you 
have  never  been  here  before  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered.     "  Your  aunt  was  a  friend  of  my 


THE   YELLOW   LEAP.  (J7 

mother's,  long  ago,  before  either  of  tliem  was  married  ; 
but  they  hadn't  met  for  years  until  last  season,  when 
Evangeline  and  I  left  school,  and  came  out ;  and  then 
they  renewed  their  acquaintance.  They  agreed  that  Evan- 
geline and  I  mustn't  consider  our  education  finished  sim- 
ply because  we  had  left  school ;  and  as  Evangeline  is  an 
only  child.  Lady  Marsh  entreated  my  mother  to  let  me 
come  here  for  awhile  to  work  with  her.  My  mother  is 
great  on  the  question  of  education.  She  says  she  has  suf- 
fered all  her  life  long  from  having  had  hers  curtailed,  and 
she  is  determined  therefore  that  her  daughters  shall  have 
every  advantage  that  her  sons  have.  If  we  are  not  clever 
enough  to  profit  there  will  be  no  harm  done ;  and  if  we 
are,  she  expects  us  to  be  thankful  that  we  were  allowed  to 
experiment  and  see  what  we  could  do,  instead  of  being 
kept  ignorant  in  deference  to  a  mere  theory  that  we  have 
no  mental  capacity.  But  of  course  we  are  not  coerced. 
Since  I  left  school  I  have  been  allowed  to  follow  my  own 
inclinations,  and  I  have  chosen  to  be  taught  the  same 
things  that  my  brothers  are  studying." 

"  Gracious,  how  clever  the  child  talks  !  "  Adalesa  ex- 
claimed in  her  irrepressible  way.  "  It's  just  like  a  book. 
Perhaps  you  learnt  it  by  heart.  I  begin  to  suspect  you 
have  a  mind.  What  a  terrible  thing!  But,  anyway,  what 
a  blessing  it  is  you  met  me  !  A  few  years  more,  and  you 
would  have  been  unendurable."  She  stood  off  again,  with 
her  arms  akimbo,  and  contemplated  me  from  this  new 
point  of  view,  derisively  at  first,  but  by  degrees  her  face 
softened.  "And  so  you  have  come  here  to  work  with 
Evangeline,  you  innocent  babe  !  "  she  said  humorously. 
"  You  must  be  clever.     Only  a  very  clever  person  would 


68  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

have  done  such  a  stupid  thing — a  hook-clever  person  I 
mean,  not  a  world-clever  person.  It  isn't  human  to  be  up 
to  everything,  and  your  world-clever  people  are  all  out  of 
it  in  literature,  but  your  book-clever  people  fail  in  their 
knowledge  of  life.  Now,  do  you  really  suppose  that  Evan- 
geline will  keep  up  anything  but  showy  accomplishments? 
And  even  those  she  will  only  do  superficially, — a  little 
music,  a  little  drawing,  rather  more  French  because  of  the 
naughty  books,  which  she  reads  regularly,  but  never  leaves 
lying  about,  for  Evangeline  is  wdse  in  her  generation — 
though  not  wise  enough  to  conquer  her  amateurishness, 
that  curse  of  our  sex — an  amateur,  that's  what  she  is,  a 
cunning  amateur  imperfect  in  everything,  one  of  those, 
admired  for  their  beauty  and  despised  for  their  folly, 
who  bring  ridicule  upon  us  all.  Yet  you  believe  in  her  ! 
Yah,  Simple  Sincerity  !  Child  of  Light !  Hot  water, 
that's  what's  in  store  for  you  here— perpetual  hot  water. 
You'll  always  be  putting  your  foot  in  it." 

"  You  encourage  me,"  I  said. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  she  answered. 


III. 

Hayixg  dressed  me  to  her  satisfaction,  much  as  a 
nurse  does  a  child  without  consulting  it,  Adalesa  made 
me  a  deep  reverence,  offered  me  her  arm,  and  conducted 
me  downstairs  in  the  most  gentlemanly  manner.  She  had 
quite  taken  me  under  her  wing  by  this  time,  and  was  pre- 
pared to  pet  and  patronise  me  ;  but  somehow  I  did  not 
resent  her  assumption  of  superiority,  for  her  mind  was 
more  mature  than  mine  was,  and  I  had  to  yield  of  neces- 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  09 

sity  to  her  force  of  character,  having  no  strength  of  my 
own  at  that  time  to  oppose  to  it. 

"  AVhat  a  lovely  old  house  !  "  I  exclaimed,  on  our  way 
to  the  drawing-room. 

"  Yes,  it  is  like  Uncle  Henry,"  she  answered — "  big, 
solid,  comfortable,  strong,  warm,  and  good.  He's  early 
English  himself,  and  splendid.     You'll  see  !  " 

He  was  alone  in  the  drawing-room  when  we  entered, 
in  appearance  a  typical  English  country  gentleman  of  the 
best  kind,  standing  on  the  hearthrug  with  his  back  to  the 
fireplace  in  the  typical  attitude.  He  received  us  both  most 
kindly,  but  with  few  words,  contenting  himself  with  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other  with  a  benign  smile  on  his  face, 
as  if  he  were  sorting  our  separate  attractions,  comparing 
and  approving  of  us. 

"  That  pig,  Evangeline,  has  not  been  near  us  yet," 
Adalesa  grumbled.  "  It's  pretty  bad  manners  to  me,  but 
it's  downright  rude  to " 

The  door  opened  as  she  spoke,  and  Evangeline- herself , 
all  in  white  tulle,  floated  towards  us,  exclaiming :  "  So 
sorry.  I  was  afraid  you  would  think  me  rude " — she 
clasped  her  hands  towards  me  with  a  little  entreating 
gesture — "  but,  oh,  pray  don't.     I  really  have  an  excuse." 

"  Let's  hear  what  it  is,  then,"  Adalesa  answered 
bluntly. 

"  My  horse — I  rode  too  far,"  she  commenced,  stam- 
mering. 

"  That's  no  excuse,"  Adalesa  interrupted. 

"  Dear,  do  excuse  me,"  Evangeline  said  to  me  ;  and 
when  I  found  her  so  sweetly  apologetic  I  did  excuse  her 
at  once,  and,  moreover,  felt  angry  with  Adalesa  for  mak- 


70  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

ing  such  a  scene,  although  the  moment  before,  while  under 
her  exclusive  influence,  I  had  agreed  that  Evangeline  was 
rude.  Now,  however,  with  Evangeline  there  to  delight 
my  eyes  and  soothe  my  senses  with  her  gentleness  and 
grace,  I  could  not  believe  anything  of  her  that  was  not 
altogether  lovely  and  adorable. 

"  You  may  say  what  you  like,"  Adalesa  added  ;  "  but 
you  have  committed  a  breach  of  hospitality,  and  for  the 
honour  of  the  family  I  take  upon  myself  to  reprove  you." 

"  Thanks,"  Evangeline  said^  smiling  with  unruffled 
sweetness. 

Sir  Henry  sat  down  in  an  easy  chair,  fixed  his  eyes  on 
some  ferns  in  the  grate,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  not  heard ; 
but  when  Adalesa  went  presently  and  lounged  on  the  arm 
of  his  chair,  with  her  elbow  on  his  shoulder,  he  took  her 
hand  and  caressed  it  gently. 

Lady  Marsh  came  into  the  room  just  then,  smiling 
amiably  as  usual,  and  dressed  in  an  opulent  manner. 
"  Adalesa,  dear^''  she  said  :  "  do  move  away.  You  will 
make  your  uncle  quite  hot." 

Adalesa  languidly  complied,  and  Sir  Henry  leant  back 
in  his  chair  and  looked  up  at  the  ceiling.  His  silence 
struck  me  as  significant.  He  seemed  to  be,  either  by  way 
of  acquiescing  in,  or  of  utterly  ignoring  the  sayings  and 
doings  of  the  ladies  of  his  family,  a  singularly  indifferent 
or  singularly  neutral  person  ;  and  I  wondered  if  he  always 
let  Lady  Marsh  decide  whether  he  was  too  hot  or  not,  and 
that  sort  of  thing. 

There  were  a  few  good  pictures  in  the  dining-room, 
and  after  dinner  he  showed  them  to  me,  and  told  me  anec- 
dotes, also,  about  some  family  portraits  that  hung  in  the 


THE  YELLOW  LEAP.  71 

hall,  and  some  ancient  armour.  The  house  was  several 
centuries  old,  with  a  long,  unbroken  family  history,  wliich 
was  illustrated  by  most  of  its  contents.  The  old  carved 
cabinets,  and  everything  else  in  the  way  of  ornament,  had 
their  associations,  and  even  the  furniture,  some  of  it,  had 
a  history  attached  to  it,  to  which  I  listened  with  an  hon- 
est interest  that  satisfied  Sir  Henry.  Lady  Marsh  and 
Evangeline  had  remained  at  table  discussing  the  details  of 
a  dinner-dress  they  had  seen  somewhere ;  but  Adalesawent 
with  us,  clinging  to  her  uncle's  arm  with  both  hands. 

"  I  would  have  you  observe  that  there  are  no  meaning- 
less feminine  fripperies  here,"  she  cried.  "  This  has  been 
the  cradle  of  a  sturdy  race  ;  and  it  looks  like  it.  I'm  one 
of  the  race,"  she  added,  laughing  up  at  her  uncle. 

"  Dear  child  ! "  Lady  Marsh  exclaimed,  coming  out  of 
the  dining-room  at  that  moment,  "  don't  hang  on  your 
uncle  so  ;  you  will  tire  him."  Then  to  me,  in  her  amiable 
way  :  "  This  is  but  a  bare  old  place  at  present,  but  now 
that  Evangeline  is  old  enough  to  take  an  interest  in  it, 
we  must  see  what  can  be  done." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  Adalesa  groaned  ;  "  if  Aunt  Marsh  and 
Evangeline  are  to  desecrate  it,  the  good  old  oak  and 
ebony  will  be  disguised  in  down  cushions  and  dimity  in 
no  time." 

"  Dear,  is  that  quite  respectful  ? "  Lady  Marsh  ex- 
claimed. 

"  No  ;  nor  would  it  be  respectful  for  an  alien  to  alter 
anything  here,"  Adalesa  rejoined  doggedly. 

"  I  am  afraid,  dear,  your  uncle  spoils  you,"  Lady 
Marsh  said  in  her  gentlest  way,  and  tlion  swept  on  to  the 
drawing-room,  arm-in-arm  with  Evangeline.    At  the  door 


72  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

she  looked  back  over  her  shoulder,  and  said  to  Sir  Henry : 
"  Don't  make  that  child  do  too  much,  dearest.  She  has 
had  a  journey,  you  know." 

"  AVhich  child  ?  "  he  asked  in  an  undertone,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other,  as  soon  as  the  drawing-room  door 
was  shut. 

"  Neither,"  Adalesa  said,  scornfully. 

"  Then  take  an  arm  each,  my  dears,"  he  rejoined,  al- 
most in  a  whisper,  "  and  we'll  see  what  there  is  to  be 
seen." 

From  which  I  perceived  that  this  benign-looking  gen- 
tleman, seemingly  so  yielding,  was  in  reality  a  bold,  bad 
man,  capable  of  opposition,  who  had  put  himself  in  my 
power;  and  I  slipped  my  hand  through  his  arm,  and 
smiled  up  at  him  confidently,  just  as  Adalesa,  on  the 
other  side,  was  doing.  He  beamed  down  upon  us  both, 
and  led  us  away  to  the  library,  where  he  lived  as  a  rule 
when  he  was  not  out  of  doors ;  and  there  he  shovv'ed  us 
miniatures,  arms,  and  ancient  gems  of  his  ancestors,  who 
seemed  to  fill  the  great  comfortable  room  as  he  talked 
about  them,  and  to  be  nearer  to  him  than  the  wife 
and  daughter,  with  their  marvellous  charms  of  manner, 
whose  tastes  and  interests  were  all  so  modern,  of  the 
Society  kind,  so  far  removed,  if  not  so  utterly  opposed, 
to  everything  he  cherished. 

IV. 

EvAKGELiNE  had  a  sitting-room  of  lier  own,  a  sunny 
south  room,  and  here  w^e  girls  were  to  work.  We  settled 
down  to  it  next  day,  and  during  the  morning  Lady  Marsh 


THE   YELLOW   LEAP.  Y3 

looked  in,  "just  to  see  how  you  are  getting  on,  dears! 
And  what  are  you  doing?"  meaning  me. 

"  Mathematics,"  I  answered. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  must  excuse  me, 
dear  child,  but  is  it  nice  for  a  young  lady  to  study  such  a 
very  masculine  subject?  A  girl's  manner,  you  know, 
should  be  so  very  different.  The  woman's  sphere  is  to 
refine  and  elevate  man." 

"  But  do  mathematics  make  one's  manners  mascu- 
line?" I  asked  in  alarm.  I  was  diffident  in  those  days, 
as  became  my  age,  and  the  least  shade  of  disapproval 
made  me  unhappy. 

"  Well,  they  have  not  done  so  as  yet  in  your  case,  dear 
child,"  Lady  Marsh  answered,  with  infinite  tact.  "  But 
still,  you  know,  dear,  they  are  not  womanly  pursuits. 
You  will  not  be  fit  for  the  duties  of  wife  and  mother  by- 
and-by  if  you  injure  your  constitution  now.  I  know  your 
mother's  idea,  but  I  cannot  agree  with  her,  and  I  often 
tell  her  I  am  sure  she  would  not  now  be  the  dear,  sweet, 
ivomanly  woman  she  is,  if  she  had  been  taught  these  new- 
fangled notions  as  a  girl.  I  cannot  think  it  is  right  for 
young  ladies  to  be  educated  like  their  brothers,  and  go  to 
the  university  and  all  that  nonsense,  getting  such  ideas  ! 
I  don't  believe  that  a  woman's  mind  is  inferior  to  a 
man's,  you  know — far  from  it ;  and,  in  fact,  in  some 
things"  —  she  looked  round  and  lowered  her  voice — 
"  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  which  is  the  superior  sex, 
only  it  doesn't  do  to  say  so,  men  make  such  remarks. 
But,  as  to  professions  for  women,  and  that  sort  of  thing, 
why,  fancy  me  a  professional  woman !  Evangeline,  dear- 
est^ put  your  French  away,  that's  a  good  child,  and  get 


74  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

a  story  book.     I  am  sure  you  have  done  enough  for  to- 
day." 

When  she  had  spoken  she  patted  my  shoulder  kindly, 
smiled  on  us  all,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Now  see  what  you  have  brought  on  yourself,  with  your 
mathematics  !  "  Adalesa  exclaimed,  her  dark  eyes  dancing 
mischievously.  "  Aunt  Marsh  knew  your  mother's  idea, 
and  I  believe  she's  got  you  down  here  to  cure  you  of  it. 
That's  the  sort  of  kind  thing  she's  celebrated  for.  She 
suspected  mathematics  this  morning,  and  came  in  pre- 
pared." 

Evangeline,  who  had  risen  with  cheerful  alacrity  to 
put  her  books  away,  in  obedience  to  her  mother's  sugges- 
tion, turned  now  from  the  bookshelf  at  which  she  was 
standing  dipping  into  a  novel,  and  looked  at  Adalesa  in- 
dignantly. "  I  don't  think  it  is  nice  of  you,"  she  said, "  to 
speak  like  that  about  my  mother.  She  must  know  better 
than  either  you  or  I.  Why,  just  think  !  You  will  own 
that  we  were  intended  to  be  healthy  and  happy — that  we 
require  to  be  so  in  order  to  be  equal  to  such  duties  as  we 
have  to  perform — and  how  can  we  be  so  if  we  go  and  in- 
jure ourselves  with  work  we  are  not  fit  for?  It's  only 
common-sense,  if  you  will  think.  Men  were  clearly  in- 
tended to  do  all  the  hard  work,  and  keep  us  in  comfort, 
and  screen  us  from  anything  objectionable.  My  ambition 
is  to  be  a  ivomanly  woman.  I  think  mamma  is  quite 
right." 

By  this  time  I  was  feeling  very  uncomfortable.  To  be 
thought  unwomanly  seemed  to  me  as  dreadful  as  to  be 
thought  wicked ;  but  yet  I  felt  there  was  something 
wrong  somewhere,  for  I  could  not  see  sex  in  a  subject  of 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  75 

study.  Why  should  one  be  masculine  and  another  femi- 
nine? Surely  there  is  no  sex  in  mind?  The  ques- 
tion of  what  we  shall  be  taught  should  be  answered  by 
finding  out  for  us  what  we  have  the  ability  to  learn.  If 
a  boy  has  a  genius  for  cooking  and  a  girl  the  faculty  for 
medicine,  he  must  be  a  sorry  educator  who  takes  pains 
to  pervert  either  of  them  from  their  natural  bent,  with 
the  inevitable  result  that  the  girl  becomes  a  bad  cook 
and  the  boy  an  indilYerent  doctor.  Happily  this  time- 
honoured  idiotcy  is  dying  out,  but,  like  all  conventions 
based  on  prejudice,  it  will  linger  long  in  secluded  minds 
— where  the  fact  that  he  as  a  man  and  she  as  a  woman  is 
indication  enough  for  both  general  and  special  purposes 
of  education,  and  will  be  until  preceptors  are  made  to 
suffer  at  the  hands  of  the  bad  cooks,  indifferent  doctors, 
and  other  mistakes  they  have  helped  to  produce — com- 
monplaces, by  the  way,  known  well  to  all  of  us,  but  by 
how  few  applied ! 

Evangeline  had  departed,  and  Adalesa  was  watching 
me  with  a  grin  on  her  intelligent  countenance.  "  Tliere 
is  no  resisting  a  feather  bed,  is  there  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Aunt 
Marsh  is  on  the  war  path,  I  think,  this  morning.  She'll 
go  and  order  Uncle  Henry's  day  till  she's  feather-bedded 
all  the  comfort  out  of  it.     Let's  go  and  see  ! " 

She  jumped  up,  seized  me  by  the  arm,  and  dragged  me 

away  to  the  library,  where  we  found   Sir  Henry  slowly 

pacing  up  and  down,  deep  in  thought.     He  looked  from 

one  to  the  other  of  us  almost  sadly  when  we  entered,  but 

smiled  indulgently  at  Adalesa  when  she  dropped  my  arm 

and,  seizing  his  in  her  energetic  way,  squeezed  it  between 

both  hands,  and  then  worked  it  up  and  down  like  a  pump 
6 


76  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

liandle,   as   if   she   could   get   what   she   wanted   out  of 
him  so. 

"  Tell  us  about  education,"  she  demanded. 

"  Ah — education,"  he  answered.  "  Your  aunt  has 
just  been  talking  to  me  about  education.  She  thinks  you 
have  been  foolishly  over-educated,  and  that  has  made  you 
rough  ;  and  she  fears  for  this  little  lady  here  " — meaning 
me — "she  is  anxious  about  you,  my  dear.  She  has  a 
great  loving  heart,  and  every  girl  is  her  daughter.  She 
wants  you  all  to  have  a  good  time.'^'^  He  used  this  last  ex- 
pression apologetically. 

"  And  so  do  you,"  Adalesa  exclaimed,  on  the  defensive. 
She  had  dropped  his  arm,  and  stood  frowning  intently, 
and  biting  one  of  her  fingers  between  her  words.  "  But, 
isn't  it  nonsense  ?  Of  course  I'm  rough.  I'm  rough  on 
purpose.  I'm  rougher  here  than  anywhere.  If  I  lived 
like  Evangeline,  in  cotton  wool,  I  should  grow  flabby ; 
and  she  says  it's  education  !  When  she  sees,  too,  that  it 
hasn't  had  that  effect  in  this  other  most  notable  case  " — 
looking  at  me.  "  Tell  me  all  over  again  about  education. 
Uncle  Henry.     I'm  all  ruffled.     I  want  to  know." 

Sir  Henry  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room  with 
his  hands  behind  him.  "  What  we  learn  is  but  a  small 
part  of  education,"  he  said,  and  it  sounded  as  if  he  were 
reflecting  aloud.  "  It  is  what  we  think  of  things,  not 
what  we  know  of  them — our  opinions — that  affect  our  con- 
duct. If  you  learn  the  multiplication  table  by  heart,  and 
merely  remember  that  you  know  it,  the  knowledge  will 
have  no  consequence  one  way  or  the  other ;  but  if  you  are 
taught  to  think  that  because  you  know  the  multiplication 
table  you  ought  to  be  a  very  high-principled  person,  you'll 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  Y7 

find  yourself  insensibly  seeking  to  live  up  to  tliat  idea. 
If,  however,  on  the  other  hand,  you  hear  continually  that 
a  knowledge  of  the  multiplication  table  must  be  lowering 
in  effect  upon  the  character — if  it  is  insinuated  that  your 
taste  will  be  corrupted  by  it  and  your  manners  coarsened, 
until  the  notion  that  such  a  consequence  is  inevitable 
takes  possession  of  your  mind  in  spite  of  yourself — then  it 
is  only  too  probable  that  that  will  be  the  case." 

"Now,  that  is  true!"  Adalesa  exclaimed,  "and  here 
are  we  two  in  evidence  of  the  fact." 

Sir  Henry  stopjDcd  a  moment  to  look  at  us,  and  then 
resumed  his  walk.  "  There's  a  great  deal  of  cant  rife  just 
now  on  the  subject  of  women  and  their  education,"  he 
observed,  "  most  of  which,  being  summed  up,  amounts  to 
a  firm  conviction  that  a  half -educated  girl,  a  creature  who 
has  learnt  to  live  for  the  pleasure  of  the  moment,  to  love 
for  the  joy  of  loving,  and  to  marry  in  order  to  secure  as 
many  of  the  good  things  of  this  world  as  she  can,  is  in 
every  way  a  suitable  and  congenial  companion  for  an  edu- 
cated man,  and  an  admirable  specimen  of  the  '  woman's- 
sphere-is-home '  woman.  A  to}" — that's  what  the  creature 
is,  an  unreasonable  and  illogical  toy,  neither  reason  nor 
logic  having  entered  into  the  curriculum  of  that  kind  of 
*  womanly  woman,'  it  having  been  supposed  that  a  large 
establishment  is  most  admirably  managed  by  a  mistress 
whose  reasoning  powers  have  never  been  cultivated,  and  a 
young  family  best  brought  up  on  the  superstitious  prac- 
tices solemnly  confided  in  mysterious  whispers  by  Mrs. 
Gamp " 

The  windows  stood  wide  open,  and  Lady  Marsh  looked 
in  at  one  of  them.     "  Dearest  children  !  "  she  cried,  "  don't 


78  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

you  see  how  fine  it  is  ?  You  ought  to  be  out.  Adalesa, 
what  are  you  worrying  your  uncle  about  ?  I  am  sure  he 
doesn't  want  you  here  at  this  time  of  day." 

V. 

In"  the  afternoon  I  went  out  for  a  ride  with  Adalesa. 
Evangeline  would  not  accompany  us.  She  had  a  packet 
of  sweets  in  her  pocket,  and  was  deep  in  an  entrancing 
novel  by  that  time,  from  which  she  could  not  be  induced 
to  separate  herself  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  on  the  next 
she  had  a  bad  headache.  "  Which  just  shows,"  her 
mother  protested,  with  gentle  emphasis,  "  how  very  neces- 
sary it  is  to  supervise  a  young  girl's  studies,  and  what  it 
would  be  if  the  dear  child  were  being  brought  up,  as  too 
many  young  ladies  are  nowada3's,  alas !  learning  quite 
masculine  matters  :  it  is  really  dreadful  I  " 

Adalesa  looked  older  and  better  in  her  riding  dress 
than  I  had  yet  seen  her,  and  perhaps  some  consciousness 
of  this  had  its  effect  upon  her  manner.  So  far,  while 
looking  like  a  child,  she  had  talked  like  a  cynical  worldly 
woman ;  but  now,  as  she  took  her  horse  skilfully  down  a 
difficult  rutty  lane,  her  face  fanned  by  the  balmy  country 
air,  heavy  with  odours  of  full-blow^n  flowers,  and  at  the 
same  time  freshened  by  the  near  neighbourhood  of  the  sea, 
there  came  a  far-away  look  into  the  girl's  eyes,  an  expres- 
sion of  )^earning  tenderness  which  culminated,  as  seemed 
most  natural,  in  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

The  lane  we  rode  in  was  a  steep'by-way — a  short  cut 
to  the  shore,  she  said — only  just  wide  enough  for  our  two 
horses  abreast,  and  so  uneven  that  we  had  to  look  well  to 


THE  YELLOW   LEAF.  ^JQ 

their  going.  On  either  hand  green  banks,  bedecked  with 
foxglove  and  harebell,  rose  high  above  us  and  before  us, 
making  the  winding  way  look  like  a  cul  de  sac,  and  shut- 
ting out  all  view  save  that  of  the  sky  above  us,  a  radiant 
strip  of  sky,  intensely  blue — blue  like  a  dark  sapphire,  and 
full  of  colour,  which  contrasted  well  with  the  opaque  blue- 
green  of  a  belt  of  firs  that  crowned  the  summit  of  the  bank 
and  held  their  heavy  plumes  up  motionless  against  the 
brightness.  The  air  was  so  still  that  inanimate  nature 
scarcely  seemed  to  breathe;  but  all  about  us  a  myriad  atoms 
of  life  buzzed,  and  chirped,  and  fluttered,  rejoicing  to  be, 
making  the  most  of  their  moment,  and  claiming  a  kinship 
with  us  in  inarticulate  murmurs,  quite  untranslatable,  and 
yet  becoming  curiously  comprehensible  to  some  sense  the 
longer  we  lingered  to  listen  to  them.  The  horses  glanced 
hither  and  thither  with  big  sagacious  eyes,  flipping  a  long 
ear  swiftly  towards  each  separate  sound — now  to  the  croak 
of  a  yellow  frog  in  the  grass,  and  now  to  the  cheep  of  a 
nestling  up  on  a  branch,  the  bleat  of  an  unseen  sheep 
in  the  meadow  above  to  its  lamb,  the  low  of  a  cow 
to  her  calf ;  seemingly  anxious  to  understand,  nervously 
glad  to  know ;  gathering  the  import  of  everything  with 
an  intelligence  beyond  ours,  perhaps,  that  made  them 
more  one  with  the  teeming  beings  about  us  than  we  were. 

But  after  that  sigh  Adalesa  burst  into  the  midst  of  my 
meditation  abruptly. 

"  Did  you  ever  feel  a  glow  in  your  chest,  and  have 
little  warm  shivers  run  down  your  backbone,  and  all  the 
time  keep  smiling?"  she  demanded. 

"  No,  never,"  I  answered  decidedly. 

"  Ah  !  then  you  have  never  been  in  love,"  she  observed 


so  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

in  a  disappointed  tone.  "  I  thought,  perhaps,  with  those 
eyes, — and  you're  not  so  plump  either." 

"  I  don't  see  the  connection." 

"  Why — don't  you  know  ?  Oh,  I  think  when  girls  are 
plump,  like  Evangeline,  it  is  because  they  haven't  felt 
much.  Kow,  I'm  skinny  because  I  have  a  burning  fiery 
furnace  within  that  consumes  me.  So  many  things — 
interests,  passions,  affections, — I  don't  know  what  all !  are 
fuel  to  my  fire ;  it  never  goes  out." 

"  But  love ?"  I  said,  shy  of  the  subject,  yet  aglow 

on  a  sudden  with  natural  girlish  curiosity  about  it,  newly 
inspired  ;  for  the  moment  she  mentioned  love  I  knew  what 
was  in  the  air. 

She  laughed,  whipped  up  her  horse,  and  rode  on  ahead 
recklessly. 

When  I  overtook  her  we  were  in  the  open  country,  on 
a  hard  high  road,  with  a  long  level  of  fields  on  either 
hand,  and  not  a  glimpse  of  the  sea. 

"  Where  are  we  ?  "  1  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten,"  she  answered  apologetically. 
"  I  was  leading  you  away  in  the  wrong  direction.  I'm 
sorry — I  was  thinking.  I  was  thinking  of  him !  "  and 
she  flipped  at  the  hedge  with  her  whip,  and  laughed  in  a 
shamefaced  way. 

"Of  whom?"  I  asked. 

"  Of  my  man,"  she  replied.  "  Oh,  you're  obtuse ! 
Don't  you  gather?  I'm  in  love.  Sometimes  I'm  sick 
with  love — love-sick.  But  you  don't  know  what  that  is, 
and  you're  a  little  shocked  !  "  She  looked  at  me  keenly. 
"  You  think  I  am  committing  a  breach  of  decorum.  So 
it   would   be,  perhaps,   for   most  girls ;   but,   don't  you 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  81 

see — with  me — oh,   you   must   let   it  be   different  with 


me 


!" 

The  high  road  was  taking  us  towards  a  belt  of  wood 
now,  above  which  the  chimneys  of  the  great  house  ap- 
peared, smoking  cheerfully. 

"  Why,  we're  going  back  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  a  little  way,"  she  answered.  "  Tm  sorry.  I 
took  the  wrong  turn.  We  should  have  gone  to  the  left 
through  the  wood,  instead  of  to  the  right,  down  that  lane. 
But  here  we  are.  I'd  better  lead  the  way.  Look  out  for 
your  hat  under  the  branches  ! " 

The  high  road  ran  through  the  wood  at  this  point,  and 
was  bordered  on  either  side  by  trees,  which  looked  like  a 
forest  of  slender  masts,  canopied  and  curtained  with 
greenery,  through  which  the  sunlight  filtered  in  shining 
shafts,  making  mystical  pathways  of  dazzling  brightness, 
beyond  which  the  tender  gloom  beneath  the  branches 
deepened  perceptibl}'.  Adalesa  had  turned  off  under  the 
trees,  taking  a  diagonal  course  confidently,  although  there 
was  no  track  that  I  could  see ;  but  1  followed  her,  now  in 
sunshine  and  now  in  shadow,  winding  in  and  out  about 
the  tree-stems,  watchfully,  like  a  princess  in  a  land  of 
weird  enchantment,  who  goes,  with  wide-open,  wistful 
eyes,  seeking  to  see  deep  into  the  verdant  shadows,  in 
timidly  glad  anticipation  of  something  to  come  that  would 
satisfy  the  hunger  at  her  heart,  that  strange  importunate 
ache. 

Branches  broken  by  last  year's  storms  crackled  beneath 
our  horses'  feet,  or  their  hoofs  sank  deep  in  delicious 
moss.  Rabbits  ran  at  our  approach,  and  the  shrill  cry  or 
clumsy  flight  of  a  startled  pheasant  sounded  oddly  insult- 


82  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

ing,  as  if  uttered  to  injure  the  charmed  silence.  And 
here  again  there  was  life — superabundant,  palpitating, 
generous — a  joyous  riot,  in  which  we  were  asked  to  join 
by  every  little  living  thing  that  spoke.  At  first,  in  the 
wood,  the  soothing  susurrus  of  leaves,  stirred  by  light 
airs,  sounded  incessantly,  a  sort  of  softly  whispering 
sound,  all-pervading  yet  unobtrusive,  not  the  main  mel- 
ody, but  a  manifold  accompaniment.  Presently,  however, 
we  were  seized  upon  by  a  mightier  voice,  muffled  at  first 
and  murmurous,  but  growing  in  distinctness  and  volume 
as  we  advanced  ;  and  at  the  same  time  we  ceased  to  see 
sunshaf ts  and  shadows  through  the  Avood ;  the  green 
depths  disappeared ;  and  now  between  the  trees  there 
sparkled  into  view  the  yellow  sands  and  the  sea.  We  had 
come  out  upon  the  shore,  and  both  involuntarily  drew 
rein. 

"  Yes,"  Adalesa  resumed,  as  if  there  had  been  no 
break,  "you  must  let  it  be  different  with  me.  I  take 
everything  so  severely — measles,  whooping  cough,  mumps, 
scarlatina — all  infantile  diseases.  Each  in  its  turn  has 
threatened  to  kill  me,  and  now  comes  this  new  fever — 
love.  I  had  to  tell  Evangeline  even.  I  should  have  died 
if  I  hadn't  said  something  to  some  one.  But  now  I  am 
sorry.  I  wish  you  had  come  sooner.  Simple  Sincerity : 
you  are  another  sort.  If  only  I  hadn't  told  Evangeline 
that  we  are  engaged  ! " 

"  Engaged  !  '*  I  exclaimed.     "  Secretly  9  " 
"Yes:  isn't  it  dreadful?"  she  answered,  laughing  at 
my  horror.     "  But  it  happened  in  this  way.     I  was  stay- 
ing with  his  people,  and  he  and  I  were  always  together 
because  we  were  the  only  young  pair  on  the  premises; 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  83 

and  at  last — oh,  the  usual  thing,  you  know !  And  I 
wanted  to  tell  Uncle  Henry,  but  he  seemed  to  dislike  the 
idea.  My  father  and  mother  are  in  India,  you  know — 
that  is  why  lam  here;  and  Percy  said,  weren't  they  the 
proper  people  to  be  first  informed?  They  are  on  their 
way  home  by  this  time,  I  believe,  round  the  Cape — oh, 
the  weary  time  of  waiting  !  months  !  And  I  hate  to  keep 
Uncle  Henry  in  the  dark.  I  always  tell  him  everything. 
But  then  of  course  there  is  Aunt  Marsh.  If  I  told  him 
he  would  make  me  tell  her,  and  then  we  should  have  the 
affair  confided  to  the  whole  county  in  solemn  confidence. 
At  least,"  she  corrected  herself  emphatically,  "/  don't  be- 
lieve he  would  tell  her ;  he's  too  good  altogether ;  and 
besides,  I've  told  him  lots  of  other  things,  but  I  can't 
make  Percy  understand,  and  he  says,  too,  that  his  know- 
ing would  put  the  affair  on  quite  a  different  footing — 
whatever  he  may  mean  by  that.  I  hate  concealment  my- 
self; but  perhaps  he  has  finer  feelings  than  T have,  for 
he  says  something  about  this  being  altogether  sacred  to 
ourselves — not  an  ordinary  concealment.  It  sounds  all 
right  as  he  puts  it ;  but  I  am  sadly  afraid  I  don't  feel 
about  it  quite  what  he  does,  because  I  want  to  tell.  I 
must  talk.  My  joy  bubbles  up  and  bursts  out  so  that  I 
cannot  contain  it.  There's  a  singing  at  my  heart  I  can't 
quite  smother ;  if  only  Uncle  Henry  suspected,  he  would 
hear  it  and  question  me,  and  then  I  should  be  glad  in- 
deed— satisfied.  Xow  at  times  it  is  only  a  kind  of  luilf 
glad.  However,  are  you  relieved  ?  I  am  not  so  sly  as 
you  suspected,  perliaps." 

"  I  should  never  have  tliought  you  sly,"  I  declared. 

"  Well,  reckless  then,"  she  replied,  "  as  when  1  told 


84  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

Evangeline.  That  was  an  instance  of  a  bubbling  up  and 
a  bursting  out.  If  I  had  had  Uncle  Henry  to  talk  to — 
but  there  !  Yet  I  know  Evangeline  is  not  to  be  trusted, 
for  all  her  promises." 

"  Oh,  surely  she  will  not  betray  you  if  she  promised  I" 
I  exclaimed,  shocked  by  the  accusation. 

For  a  moment  the  cynical  expression  returned  to  Ada- 
lesa's  face. 

"  It  just  depends  upon  what  will  suit  her  own  con- 
venience," she  answered,  with  her  usual  downright  direct- 
ness. 

The  horses,  tired  of  standing,  sniffed  the  salt  air, 
tossed  their  heads,  and  pawed  impatiently. 

"  We'll  let  them  go  for  a  gallop  in  a  minute,"  she  said  ; 
"  but  first,  just  look  at  the  sea,  and  listen  to  it.  That 
inarticulate  murmur  is  full  of  meaning  to  me  now ;  and 
so  it  is  with  the  sough  of  the  breeze  in  the  branches  and 
the  rustle  of  leaves.  Since  he  came  into  my  life  I  have 
awakened  to  full  consciousness  of  a  curious  kinship  with 
all  things  animate  and  inanimate.  The  gladness  in  me, 
the  singing  in  my  heart,  is  all  a  part  of  some  great  whole, 
some  universal  plan,  something  I  knoio^  but  can't  express. 
But  wait ! — wait  till  you  know  it  too  ! " 

She  had  looked  down  at  the  sand  as  she  spoke,  frown- 
ing intently  in  the  effort  to  put  what  she  felt  into  human 
speech;  and  her  horse,  as  if  waiting  upon  her  words, 
ceased  for  the  moment  to  be  restive ;  the  very  sea- voice 
seemed  suspended,  and  the  scene  itself — sandhills,  and 
shore,  and  grey-white,  green-crowned  cliffs,  curving  arm- 
like  about  the  bay,  passed  from  my  consciousness.  I  saw 
and  heard  her  alone  till  she  stopped ;  then  the  waves  rang 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  85 

out  their  merry  murmur,  the  cliffs  whitened  into  view  in 
tlie  sunsliine,  the  breeze  sang  in  my  ears,  the  open  space 
invited,  and  our  horses,  with  one  accord,  as  though  they 
felt  our  own  fine  impulse  to  fly,  to  be  free,  plunged  out 
from  amongst  the  heavy,  dry  drifts,  on  to  the  smooth, 
hard  sand,  and  carried  us  off  at  a  gallop  into  another 
world. 

VL 

Evangeline  came  to  my  room  late  that  night.  We 
had  not  had  an  hour's  talk  together  since  my  arrival. 
The  moon  was  near  the  full,  and  she  found  me  with  my 
window  wide  open,  luxuriating  in  the  sense  of  stillness, 
which  is  peculiar  to  the  exquisite,  shadowy,  silent  night. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  little  shiver.  "  Won't 
you  take  cold  ?  Isn't  that  mist  down  there  on  the  mead- 
ows ?  and  aren't  the  trees  black  ?  It  is  all  so  comfort- 
less  " 

I  shut  the  window. 

"  Ah,  that's  better ! "  Evangeline  pursued,  as  she 
curled  herself  up  in  an  easy  chair.  "  I  love  lays  of  the 
moon,  and  the  ecstatic  solitudes  one  reads  about ;  but 
the  real  thing  falls  far  short  of  the  description.  I  be- 
lieve those  rhapsodies  are  written  in  bed  at  night,  with 
the  curtains  drawn,  and  a  big  fire  blazing.  At  all  events, 
that's  the  best  way  to  read  them.  One  forgets  then,  as  the 
poet  seems  to  have  forgotten,  all  the  unpleasant  details 
— that  it  is  chilly  out  in  the  merry  moonlight ;  fatiguing 
to  linger  or  loiter  long,  though  it  sounds  so  nice ;  and 
too  damp  to  sit,  couch,  or  recline  on  anytliing  growing  or 
blowing.  I  love  poetry,  but  preserve  me  from  having  to 
*'■'    \  ct  .^  ■■ 

/         ^^   or   THE 

:    UNIVERSITY    i 


86  TUE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

live  it !  Cushions  and  comfort  are  my  delight,  ease  is  my 
ambition,  and  all  things  ordered  to  please  me  by  some 
competent  person  as  long  as  I  live,  my  one  desire  ! " 

She  cooed  all  this  so  prettily  that  I  began  to  draw  an 
invidious  comparison  between  the  sound  of  her  words  and 
of  Adalesa's.  The  sense  did  not  impress  me.  The  gen- 
tleness of  her  manner,  the  sweetness  of  her  voice,  and  the 
charm  of  her  appearance  disarmed  criticism.  One  felt  at 
rest  in  her  presence  ;  one  did  not  think. 

She  left  the  easy  chair,  and  came  and  sat  down  beside 
me.  "  Pet  me,"  she  said,  putting  her  arms  around  me. 
*'  I  don't  seem  to  have  seen  you  at  all  since  you  came ;  and 
oh,  I  have  such  lots  of  things  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about. 
How  pretty  your  neck  is  ! — just  like  a  baby's.  I  must 
kiss  it !  I  could  eat  you,  I  think,  you're  so  sweet !  But 
you're  not  very  responsive,  I  must  say  !  I  believe  you  like 
Adalesa  best.  Tell  me,  do  you  ?  I  should  be  so  miserable 
if  I  thought  you  did.     But  what  do  you  think  of  her  ?  " 

"  I  think  her  delightful." 

"  So  she  is,"  Evangeline  answered,  returning  to  her 
chair.  "  But  isn't  it  rather  a  pity,  when  she's  so  nice,  that 
she  shouldn't  be  perfect  ?  She  does  say  and  do  such  out- 
rageous things.  She  has  gone  and  engaged  herself  secret- 
ly." This  breach  of  confidence  slipped  out  so  easily  and 
so  naturally  that  I  should  have  hesitated  at  the  moment 
to  apply  any  harsh  epithet  to  it.  "  Yes,"  she  pursued  ;  "  I 
met  the  man  in  London  afterwards,  and  now  he  has  be- 
come quite  an  ally  of  mine.  When  he  found  I  knew  all 
about  the  affair,  he  said  he  was  glad,  and  would  like  to 
discuss  it  with  me.  You  do  believe,  don't  you,  that  men 
and  women  can  have  Platonic  friendships  ?     I  think  it  so 


THE  YELLOW  LEAP.  87 

cynical  for  people  not  to  believe  in  disinterestedness,  lie 
says  he  loves  to  talk  to  me ;  and  of  course  there  can  be 
no  harm  when  it  is  all  about  another  girl.  What  do  you 
think  ?  " 

"  I  think  I'm  inclined  to  be  sorry  for  the  other  girl." 

"  Oh,  now  that  is  not  nice  of  you  ! "  she  said  reproach- 
fully. 

"  Well,  the  things  that  are  said  about  the  kind  of  man 
who  spends  all  his  time  with  one  girl  in  order  to  talk 
about  another,  are  not  nice  either." 

"  Oh,  but  I'm  sure  you  would  never  judge  a  man  by 
the  unkind  things  people  say ! "  She  said  this  so  earnest- 
ly, so  caressingly,  she  made  me  feel  mean.  *' And,  besides," 
she  went  on  gravely,  "  I  don't  think  he  is  quite  satisfied, 
somehow.  It  is  not  that  he  says  anything,  you  know,  only 
he  makes  me  fancy — and  I  think  it  just  as  well  that  the 
engagement  was  not  announced.  If  there  is  any  change 
— if  nothing  comes  of  it,  you  know,  nothing  can  be  said. 
I  only  tell  you  about  it  in  confidence,  because  I  know  you 
are  safe,  and  I  did  so  want  to  consult  some  one.  You 
see,  he  confided  in  me,  and  asked  my  advice,  and  I  feel 
it  is  such  a  responsibility.     But  perhaps  Adalesa  told  you 

herself.     I  thought  she  might,  as  you  get  on  so  well " 

She  stopped  here,  and  looked  at  me  expectantly,  but  as  I 
only  replied  with  a  steady  stare,  she  demanded,  point- 
blank  :  "  Did  she  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  ask  ? "  I  answered  without  emphasis, 
so  as  not  to  betray  my  friend  ;  and  I  saw  that  she  was 
baffled,  but  she  did  not  like  to  repeat  the  question. 


88  THE   YELLOW  LEAF. 


VII. 


Evangeline  had  been  complaining  of  some  mysteri- 
ous pain  in  her  arm,  and  the  next  day  a  famous  physician 
who  was  staying  in  the  neighbourhood  came  to  see  her. 
He  was  brought  to  our  sitting-room,  and  I  helped  Evan- 
geline, at  her  mother's  request,  to  take  off  her  bodice,  to 
enable  him  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  the  pretty 
limb.  It  was  evident  that  the  old  gentleman  was  inter- 
ested in  his  charming  patient,  his  manners,  which  were 
naturally  suave,  took  on  such  an  obviously  extra  shade  of 
delicate,  courtly  consideration.  Standing  a  little  apart 
with  Adalesa,  I  became  deeply  interested  in  his  method 
of  inquiring  into  the  cause  of  the  trouble  ;  but  he  talked 
about  "  the  long  bone  of  the  arm,"  until  at  last,  bored  by 
the  repetition,  I  ventured  to  vary  the  monotony  for  him 
by  suggesting  the  word  humerus  aside  to  her. 

The  doctor  overheard  me,  however.  "  Oh — hem — ha 
— yes,"  he  observed  deliberately,  giving  me  to  understand 
at  the  same  time,  with  a  look,  that  I  had  sunk  low  in  his 
estimation  ;  after  which  he  took  no  further  notice  of  me. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  offended  the  doctor,  dear,"  Lady 
Marsh  said  afterwards.  "  You  really  must  be  careful  by 
what  names  you  call  things.  You  see,  any  indelicacy  in 
a  young  lady  shocks  a  refined  and  cultivated  man." 

"  But  humerus  is  the  proper  name  of  the  bone,"  I  ven- 
tured, with  a  faint  flicker  of  spirit,  in  spite  of  the  softly 
smothery  effect  of  her  manner. 

"  We  do  not  call  things  by  their  proper  names,"  she 
answered  with  gentle  dignity. 

"  But  is  it  really  more  delicate  to  call  it  the  long  bone 


THE  YELLOW   LEAF.  89 

of  the  arm  ?  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Do  forgive  me  for  pestering 
you,  dear  Lady  Marsh,"  I  added,  seeing  a  shade  of  dis- 
approval on  her  face ;  "  but  I  am  always  being  met  witli 
queer  contradictions  and  singular  gradations  of  right  and 
wrong,  and  the  effort  to  understand  them  wearies  my 
brain." 

"  Of  course  ! "  she  exclaimed,  triumphantly.  "  That 
is  what  I  and  any  sensible  person  would  have  foreseen. 
A  young  girl's  brain  must  suffer  if  she  studies  subjects 
only  fit  for  men." 

When  we  were  alone,  Adalesa  asked  me  what  I  thought 
no}v  of  her  sweet  Aunt  Marsh. 

"  I  am  trying  to  allow  for  opposite  points  of  view,"  I 
answered,  laughing. 

But  in  my  heart  I  acknowledged  that  Adalesa  had 
not  exaggerated ;  for  the  mental  agonies  that  perfectly 
delightful  woman  caused  me  to  suffer,  on  account  of  the 
difference  between  her  point  of  view  and  that  from  which 
I  had  been  brought  up,  no  one  who  has  not  been  a  girl 
under  similar  circumstances  can  possibly  conceive.  I  be- 
gan to  wonder  at  last,  when  I  got  up  in  the  morning, 
what  I  should  blunder  about  that  day ;  and  from  the  easy 
absence  of  self-consciousness  which  comes  of  living  among 
people  who  encourage  discussion  and  allow  the  most  ex- 
treme differences  of  opinion  as  a  matter  of  course,  I  be- 
came so  nervous  that  I  shrank  from  speaking  at  all,  or  if 
by  chance  I  did  commit  myself,  I  would  have  recanted 
every  syllable  in  my  extreme  timidity  rather  than  suffer 
the  disapproval  I  detected  in  the  attitude  of  those  about 
me.  Lady  Marsh  laboured  incessantly  to  repair  the 
errors  of  my  education ;  and  often  she  talked  for  an  hour 


90  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

without  provoking  me  to  say  anything  offensive,  but  the 
moment  she  interested  me,  the  moment  she  roused  me  to 
think  for  myself,  I  was  lost.     The  duty  of  being  a  social 
success  was  one  of  her  favourite  themes;  and  she  con- 
sidered it  the  beginning  of  wisdom  for  a  woman  to  make 
herself  attractive.     So  did  my  mother  ;  but  when  it  came 
to  ways  and  means,  their  principles  Avere  diametrically 
opposed  to  each  other.     Lady  Marsh  often  talked  to  us 
girls  earnestly  on  the  subject,  her  teaching,  as  I  now  per- 
ceive, having  been  a  fair  mixture  of  worldly  wisdom  and 
amiable  foolishness.     So  far  as  our  conversation  was  con- 
cerned, it  might  be  summed  up  in  the  advice :  never  to 
dispute ;  never  utter  an  emphatic  word  ;  talk  principally 
about  little  things  that  have  happened  ;  to  recount  and  to 
listen  well  is  the  great  thing ;  men  like  to  be  listened  to ; 
but  as  we  valued  our  reputations  for  womanliness  we  were 
never  to  express  opinions.     It  was  really  better  not  to 
have   any.     Men   do   not   care   about  women  who  have 
opinions.     But  it  was  upon  the  subject  of  personal  ap- 
pearance that  she  was  greatest.     A  girl  who  was  good- 
looking  was  a  matter  of  grave  importance  to  her,  and  she 
would  appraise  the  marriage-market  value  of  us  all  quite 
seriously,  but  never  would  have  allowed  the  calculation 
to  be  defined  by  any  such  expression.     She  would  have 
called  it  "  considering  our  prospects  of  happiness."     She 
expected  Evangeline,  whom  she  considered  a   poem   in 
appearance,  to  make  a  brilliant  match ;  and  she  was  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  express  some  hope  for  me  too :  "  Only 
you  must  be  careful,  dear.     Don't  let  a  man  imagine  for 
a  moment  that  you  have  ever  thought  about  anything." 
But  for  Adalesa  she  had  little  hope.     "  She  might  marry 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  91 

a  Radical  Member,  or  something  of  that  sort,"  she  said 
to  me  confidentially  one  day,  but  she  spoke  dubiously. 
"  She  is  so  thin,  you  see,"  she  added. 

We  were  waiting  with  Evangeline  for  tea  in  the  draw- 
insr-room,  and  Adalesa  herself  came  in  at  that  moment 
with  her  bull  pup  under  her  arm. 

"  I'm  the  thin  party,  I  expect,"  she  said,  her  dark  eyes 
dancing  mischievously. 

"  Party ^  dear  child  ! "  Lady  Marsh  ejaculated.  "  What 
an  expression  for  a  young  lady ! " 

*'  Diddums,  den  ! "  Adalesa  said  to  the  bull  pup.  "  Just 
look  at  him,  auntie,  how  he  wrinkles  his  forehead." 

"  I  wish,  dear,  you  would  not  bring  that  creature  into 
the  drawing-room ;  he  is  not  a  proper  pet  for  a  young 
lady." 

"  But,  Aunt  Marsh,  men  love  sporting  dogs,"  Adalesa 
remonstrated,  with  an  injured  air.  "  And  he'll  be  what  I 
never  shall,  and  that's  a  beauty  of  his  kind." 

"  You  make  a  great  mistake,"  Lady  Marsh  answered. 
"  Any  girl  not  absolutely  ugly  may  be  good-looking  if  she 
will,  and  you  might  be  most  elegant  with  that  slender 
figure  if  you  chose.  And  then  also  manner  goes  a  good 
way.  A  girl  with  a  very  gentle,  rather  timid  manner  is  ir- 
resistible to  most  men.  Men  like  women  to  be  dependent 
and  clinging.  And  further,  I  know,  for  a  fact,  that  if  you 
bring  up  a  girl  to  be  a  beauty  she  will  develop  into  one.'* 

"  It's  odd  that  you  should  say  that,"  Adalesa  answered 
ambiguously,  "  for  I  was  just  thinking  something  of  the 
same  sort.  I  was  thinking  if  you  bring  up  a  girl  to  be 
wise  she  will  be  wise ;  but  the  custom  is  to  bring  up  a 
girl  to  be  a  fool." 
7 


92  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

"  Your  mother  used  to  be  a  lovely  girl,"  Lady  Marsh 
said  to  me,  pointedly  ignoring  Adalesa.  "  I  suppose  she 
wishes  her  daughters  to  be  beautiful." 

"  My  mother  does  not  despise  beauty,  but  she  considers 
it  a  charming  incident,  that  cannot  last,  rather  than  a 
serious  object  in  life,"  I  blundered. 

A  solemn  silence  followed  upon  this,  which  Lady 
Marsh  broke  at  last  by  remarking  to  Evangeline,  with  sig- 
nificant sweetness, — 

"  There  is  something  wrong  about  that  dress  at  the 
waist,  dearest.     It  drags." 

"  I'll  tighten  my  stays,  mamma,"  Evangeline  answered 
amiably. 

"You'll  make  your  nose  red  if  you  do — or  hust!^^ 
Adalesa  observed,  with  her  mouth  full  of  cake. 

"  Adalesa,  how  can  you  ! "  her  aunt  remonstrated. 

It  was  interesting  to  see  Evangeline  expand  sympa- 
thetically under  her  mother's  teaching.  Her  mind  im- 
bibed it  with  reverence  as  well  as  with  relish,  but  to  what 
it  would  be  transformed  when  it  was  thoroughly  assimi- 
lated, girls  like  ourselves  could  not  foresee.  From  a  chance 
remark  of  Sir  Henry's,  however,  I  gathered  that  he  had 
his  doubts  about  its  being  a  soul-making  substance. 

VIIL 

Lady  Marsh  was  by  way  of  doing  her  best  for  us,  as 
the  society  mothers  delicately  express  it,  and  one  of  the 
delights  of  that  visit  was  to  be  a  ball. 

The  joy  of  that  ball  began  for  us  from  the  first  moment 
it  was  discussed.    In  a  matter  of  that  kind  Lady  Marsh 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  03 

knew  how  to  make  girls  happy,  and  she  let  us  arrange  it 
all  ourselves  and  choose  our  own  dresses.  We  sent  to 
town  for  specimen  programmes,  and  drew  up  a  formal  invi- 
tation, which  we  had  printed  ;  and  when  the  cards  arrived 
we  spent  a  long  delicious  morning  in  our  sitting-room 
addressing  them.  There  were  no  improving  books  about 
on  that  occasion.  The  table  was  covered  with  invitations 
and  envelopes,  and  we  all  three  talked  nineteen  to  the 
dozen  as  we  addressed  the  latter,  making  many  mistakes 
in  our  eagerness  and  glee,  and  giving  ourselves  much 
unnecessary  trouble ;  but  it  was  all  a  part  of  the  pleasure. 

Lady  Marsh  came  in  during  the  morning,  and  found 
the  floor  strewed  with  evidences  of  these  mistakes;  but 
she  only  smiled  indulgently. 

Then  came  the  discussion  about  the  dresses.  We  de- 
cided upon  red,  white,  and  blue.  Adalesa's  was  to  be  red, 
with  coral  ornaments,  because  of  her  dark  eyes  and  hair, 
and  olive  skin.  Pale  passion  colour,  she  chose,  and  it 
looked  like  an  expression  of  herself.  Evangeline's  was  to 
be  white — white  satin  with  tulle  and  pearls,  the  kind  of 
conventional  thing  a  3'oung  lady  looks  her  loveliest  in ; 
and  also,  perhaps,  in  that  it  was  conventional,  an  exact 
expression  of  herself.  Mine  was  to  be  pale  blue;  "Be- 
cause of  your  white  skin,  my  dear,"  Adalesa  said.  "  And 
also  because  simple  sincerity  should  be  in  true  blue. 
Your  ornaments  must  be  turquoise  and  pearls  and  dia- 
monds.    Do  you  happen  to  have  any  ?  " 

I  laughed,  as  at  an  absurdity,  for  I  was  not  an  heiress. 

The  discussion  about  the  dresses  took  place  at  luncheon 
one  day,  and  Sir  Henry  paid  much  amused  attention  to 
our  chatter. 


94  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

"But  where  are  you  to  get  these  fine  gowns?"  he 
asked. 

"  Where  are  we  to  get  the  money  for  them,  you  mean  ?  '* 
said  Adalesa. 

Sir  Henry  looked  at  Lady  Marsh  expressively,  and 
then  Lady  Marsh  beamed  round  upon  us :  "  My  dears,  / 
am  going  to  give  you  your  dresses,"  she  said. 

The  next  excitement  was  the  coming  of  the  answers  to 
the  invitations.  Adalesa  slipped  up  to  me  shyly  one 
morning,  with  very  bright  eyes  and  very  pale  cheeks. 
"  He  has  accepted,"  she  said,  in  a  breathless  whisper. 
"  He  is  coming."  The  words  were  gasped  between  two 
sighs,  heavy  with  heart-beats.  From  that  time  the  tire- 
some child  in  her  slumbered  and  slept.  She  never  "  drew  " 
Aunt  Marsh  now,  and  she  had  rolled  up  her  elf-locks  and 
left  off  short  petticoats.  She  was  feverishly  flushed  for 
the  most  part,  but  she  was  very  quiet,  and  would  steal 
away  alone  for  a  ramble  through  the  woods  or  a  ride  by 
the  sea :  "  To  listen  to  the  voices,"  as  she  said ;  "  to  be 
one  with  Nature,  which  Jcnoivs " 

Evangeline  also  knew  that  "  he  "  was  coming,  and  men- 
tioned the  matter  with  a  self-satisfied  smile  :  "  0  dear !  I 
suppose  I  shall  be  called  upon  again  to  resolve  doubts  and 
difficulties,"  she  observed. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  he  will  take  you  into  his  confi- 
dence when  she  is  here  ! "  I  exclaimed. 

She  smiled  again  enigmatically.  "  Well,  really — one 
never  knows,"  she  said.  "  I  can't  think  how  it  could  ever 
have  happened.  But,  there !  you  know  Adalesa.  Wait 
till  you  see  him,  and  then  judge  if  she  is  suitable.  It  is  so 
lucky,  I  think,  the  engagement  was  never  announced." 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  95 

She  smiled  complacently  when  she  had  spoken,  then 
blushed  at  nothing,  and  finally  ran  away  laughing.  I 
could  not  make  her  out. 

Our  lovely  dresses  arrived  some  days  before  the  event, 
and  were  duly  doted  upon.  It  seemed  as  if  our  delight 
had  culminated  in  them,  and  could  rise  no  higher ;  but 
when  we  went  to  dress  for  dinner  on  the  eventful  day  it- 
self, three  cries  of  joy,  uttered  simultaneously  in  our  three 
respective  rooms,  announced  yet  another  item  added  to 
our  ecstasy,  for  there,  on  our  dressing-tables,  a  present 
from  Sir  Henry,  were  the  very  jewels  Adalesa  had  de- 
scribed as  essential  to  complete  our  happiness. 

When  we  were  dressed  we  ran  down  to  the  drawing-room 
together,  with  our  arms  round  each  other,  red,  white,  and 
blue,  all  silk,  satin,  and  tulle,  to  be  inspected,  only  ex- 
pecting to  see  the  old  people ;  but  there,  on  the  hearth- 
rug, stock  a  romantic-looking  young  man,  tall,  with  deep 
dark  eyes,  a  stranger  to  me,  but  I  knew  in  a  moment 
who  it  was.  I  had  met  him  in  many  books,  and  dreamt 
about  him  too.  I  knew  him  first  by  the  way  Evangeline 
started  and  Adalesa  hung  back.  My  own  heart  beat  to  suf- 
focation when  his  eyes  met  mine ;  but  what  with  dresses 
and  jewels  and  joyful  anticipations,  it  was  a  highly 
emotional  moment  with  all  three  of  us — this  last  ele- 
ment, a  young  man  to  admire  us,  having  completed  the 
circle. 

Evangeline  was  the  first  to  recover  herself  and  greet 
him,  and  then  she  introduced  him  to  me ;  and  Adalesa, 
at  last,  summoning  her  courage,  shyly  held  out  a  seem- 
ingly reluctant  hand,  the  damask  rose  on  her  cheeks 
deepening   the  while ;    but  the  magnetism  of  her  dark 


96  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

eyes  was  absent  from  her  greeting,  as  she  never  raised 
them  from  the  ground. 

The  young  man  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  us 
with  a  kind  of  pleased  surprise. 

"  Three  Graces,  by  Jove  ! "  Sir  Henry  exclaimed,  as  he 
received  our  thanks.  "  Impossible  to  choose  between 
them.     I'd  turn  Mohammedan  if  I  were  a  young  man." 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  marry  me,"  Adalesa  flashed  out 
at  him. 

"That's  right,  my  dear,"  answered  he  good-humou  red- 
ly. "  I  like  your  spirit  and  the  way  you  show  it.  None 
of  your  pet  pussy-cat  girls  for  me,  concealing  their  claws 
till  they're  married.  You  stick  to  that — the  whole  man, 
body,  soul,  and  spirit,  or  nothing." 

Several  more  guests  arrived  for  dinner.  Evangeline 
whispered  to  her  mother.  It  is  strange  how  one  some- 
times sees  the  significance  of  things  one  cannot  hear  on 
occasions  of  excitement,  when  all  our  faculties  are  on  the 
alert.  Until  Evangeline  spoke  to  her  mother  I  had  not 
thought  of  whom  Mr.  Perceval  would  take  in  to  dinner, 
but  both  question  and  answer  occurred  to  me  on  the 
instant.  Evangeline  had  suggested,  and  Lady  Marsh,  not 
knowing,  had  acquiesced :  he  was  to  take  Evangeline  in, 
and,  as  he  offered  his  arm  to  her,  he  looked  into  her  eyes 
ardently.  He  looked  at  me,  however,  in  just  the  same 
way  a  moment  later,  and  I  thought,  perhaps,  that  that 
was  his  habitual  expression ;  but  all  the  same  I  began  to 
feel  sore  and  sorry  for  Adalesa. 

They  sat  opposite  to  me  at  table,  and  talked  to- 
gether in  undertones  confidentially,  Evangeline  cooing 
softly  and  looking  lovely  all  the  time,  while  Adalesa,  poor 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  97 

child,  a  little  lower  down,  out  of  some  growing  feelinfy  of 
dissatisfaction,  uttered  small  aggressive  raileries  in  high- 
pitched  tones,  doing  more  damage  to  her  own  cause 
thereby  than  any  one  else  could  have  done.  I  inter- 
cepted a  glance  of  disapproval  from  the  otlier  side  of  the 
table,  and  felt  that  comparisons  were  inevitable.  Lady 
Marsh,  who  was  not  far  from  Adalesa,  put  in  an  amiable 
remonstrance  at  last : — "  Now,  dearest,"  she  began,  smil- 
ing, "  do  not  rail,  it  is  such  a  bad  habit,  and  people  are  so 
apt  to  think  you  mean  it — ill-natured  people,  of  course," 
she  hastened,  to  add  generally,  beaming  round  on  us  all 
as  if  begging  us  to  observe  that  she  considered  it  impossi- 
ble to  include  us  in  such  a  category. 

But  the  remonstrance  was  unfortunate  from  Lady 
Marsh's  point  of  view,  as  its  immediate  effect  was  to 
stimulate  Adalesa  to  one  of  those  flashes  of  mature  opin- 
ion which  her  aunt  considered  so  undesirable  in  a  girl : — 
"  Ah,  you  don't  know  the  value  of  raillery.  Aunt  Marsh," 
she  burst  out.  "  I  believe  myself  that  it  is  the  railers  who 
do  all  the  good  in  the  world.  They  are  the  first  cause 
of  a  change  for  the  better,  because  when  they  don't  like 
things,  they  have  a  way  of  expressing  themselves  which  is 
so  exceedingly  disagreeable  to  those  who  only  want  to  be 
content  and  not  think,  that  the  latter  are  only  too  glad 
to  accept  their  suggestions  in  order  to  silence  them.  It 
is  really  the  heathen  railers  who  keep  a  spark  of  religion 
alight  in  the  land ;  they  show  up  the  difference  between 
precept  and  practice,  and  make  the  professors  ashamed 
of  their  own  inconsistencies." 

Lady  Marsh  shook  her  head  solemnly: — "Dear  child, 
what  have  you  been  reading  now?"  she  exclaimed,  and 


98  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

then  she  meandered  off  in  an  undertone  to  her  next  neigh- 
bour on  the  necessity  of  supervising  a  girl's  education. 

"  Poor  Adalesa!  "  Evangeline  murmured,  with  a  dep- 
recating sigh.  "  But  she  is  such  a  child  !  And  of  course 
she  will  get  over  all  these  exaggerated  ideas  when  she  is 
older  and  has  more  sense." 

"  With  such  gentle  womanly  surroundings  she  should," 
he  answered,  gazing  again  at  Evangeline,  whose  white 
bosom  heaved  with  another  little  sigh. 

"  But  is  it  not  strange  that  the  sense  should  be  so  long 
in  coming,"  she  said,  "  considering  that  Adalesa  has  had 

exactly    the    same    opportunities ?"      She    stopped, 

blushing  alluringly,  as  if  modestly  afraid  of  even  having 
indicated  herself. 

After  dinner  she  singled  me  out  for  a  confidence. 
"Hasn't  he  exquisite  Oriental  eyes?"  she  said.  "And 
don't  you  think  I  succeeded  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not :  how  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  stammered. 

"  Succeeded  in  preventing  any  suspicion,"  she  answered. 
"  I  was  so  afraid  mamma  might  see  something." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  you  need  have  alarmed  yourself,'* 
I  dryly  rejoined. 

"  But,  now,  do  you  think  they  are  suited  ?  "  she  asked, 
in  a  tenderly  anxious  tone. 

"  I  think  that  is  altogether  their  business,"  I  replied. 

She  looked  at  me  reproachfully,  and  then  left  me. 

Mr.  Perceval  danced  with  me  several  times  during  the 
evening,  and  towards  the  end  of  the  ball  we  were  engaged 
for  another  dance ;  but  when  the  time  came  I  was  tired, 
so  we  decided  to  sit  it  out.  His  manner  the  whole  even- 
ing had  shocked  and  offended  me,  as  the  manner  of  a 


THE  YELLOW   LEAF.  99 

married  man  who  wanted  to  flirt  would  have  done.  He 
was  Adalesa's  property,  and  yet  I  felt 'that  upon  the  slight- 
est encouragement  he  would  have  made  love  to  me ;  and  I 
had  an  uncomfortable  doubt  as  to  how  far  he  might  not 
actually  have  gone  with  Evangeline,  which  proved  that 
my  faith  in  her  was  shaken.  I  judged  him  harshly  then — 
I  think  I  could  have  called  him  a  villain — but  now  all  I 
feel  is  a  sort  of  amused  contempt  for  him  for  acting  after 
his  kind,  an  ordinary  animal  kind.  He  was  a  common- 
place young  man  in  the  mood  for  marriage,  and  would 
have  made  any  one  of  us  three  that  had  chanced  to  accept 
him  a  good  and  agreeable  husband — or  rather  his  wife 
would  have  made  him  pretty  much  what  she  pleased. 

Because  of  my  suspicion  of  him  I  chose  to  sit  in  the 
ball-room  so  as  not  to  give  him  a  chance  ;  and,  finding  I 
would  not  flirt,  he  sat  beside  me  quietly,  and  turned  his 
attention  to  Evangeline  and  Adalesa,  who  were  dancing, 
observing  them  closely  and  comparing  them,  as  I  suspected 
— a  comparison  which  was  far  from  fair  to  Adalesa  at  that 
age ;  for  she  was  one  of  those  girls  who,  in  appearance, 
mature  late.  Her  active  mind  gave  her  slender  body  no 
leisure  to  cushion  itself  with  redundant  plumpness.  Evan- 
geline might,  as  her  mother  maintained,  be  a  poem  in  ap- 
pearance, but  Adalesa  was  one  in  fact  in  spite  of  her  angles. 
This  ordinary  young  man,  however,  with  only  an  ideal  of 
fleshly  perfection  in  his  mind  and  before  his  eyes,  was  not 
likely  to  suspect  it ;  and,  even  if  he  had,  what  pleasure 
would  it  have  been  to  him,  or  profit,  seeing  that  he  had 
no  capacity  to  appreciate  a  poem  ? 

Judged,  too,  merely  upon  that  kind  of  observation, 
there  was  another  point  against  Adalesa.     She  did  not 


100  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

waltz  well,  but  Evangeliue  floated  like  thistledown  above 
the  boards.  Adalesa  soon  wearied  of  waltzing ;  she 
thought  it  monotonous,  and  only  went  on  to  the  end  of 
the  ball  to  make  herself  useful.  She  excelled,  however, 
in  a  higher  branch  of  the  art,  to  her  aunt's  horror.  We 
should  call  it  skirt-dancing  now,  and  be  applauded  for  the 
accomplishment;  but  at  that  time  it  was  a  nameless 
enormity  for  a  young  lady  to  indulge  in.  Adalesa,  never- 
theless, would  take  her  castanets  sometimes,  and  give  us 
an  entrancing  benefit  of  "  woven  paces  and  of  waving 
arms  " ;  but  Lady  Marsh  regularly  put  down  this  exhibi- 
tion when  she  caught  her  at  it ;  and  it  was  hardly  likely 
the  young  man  knew  of  the  accomplishment,  nor  could 
one  expect  him  to  appreciate  the  self-sacrifice  Adalesa  was 
making  when  she  accepted  one  eligible  partner  after  an- 
other the  whole  evening,  "  boring  herself  to  one,  two, 
three,  turn,  for  the  good  of  the  house,"  as  she  elegantly 
expressed  it. 

There  came  to  me  a  curious  fancy  as  I  watched  those 
girls.  I  seemed  to  see  the  soul  of  each  through  the  casing 
of  finery  and  flesh  that  enveloped  them. 

"  One  of  the  two  is  as  good  as  gold  without  alloy,"  I 
said  to  Perceval ;  "  but  the  other  is " 

"  An  inferior  compound  ?  "  he  suggested ;  "  and  I 
know  which  it  is." 

But  he  looked  at  the  wrong  one ;  and  I  let  him,  for  I 
did  not  think  him  worth  pure  gold,  for  all  his  "  exquisite 
Oriental  eyes." 

When  the  dance  was  over  he  left  me,  and  Adalesa  took 
his  place.  It  had  been  pathetic  to  watch  her  during  the 
evening.     Her  eyes  had  been  eloquent  at  first  of  shy  ex- 


THE   YELLOW   LEAP.  101 

pectation,  half  joyful,  half  frightened ;  but  then  came  sur- 
prise and  inquiry ;  then  an  interregnum  of  blankness,  no 
explanation  occurring  to  her ;  and  now  the  expression  was 
altogether  pained. 

"  My  heart  is  heavy  within  me,"  she  said,  in  a  whisper- 
ing way  she  had,  which  made  me  think  of  the  soft  sighing 
of  summer  air  through  the  leaves.  "  He  seems  to  have 
forgotten." 

From  where  we  sat  I  particularly  noticed  one  of  the 
decorations  of  the  ball-room — a  great  palm,  standing  in  a 
corner  between  a  window  and  a  door,  and  all  in  shadow 
with  the  exception  of  one  long  leaf,  which  it  held  to  the 
light,  one  glossy  dark  green  leaf,  that  shone  and  quivered 
like  a  sentient  thing  in  the  fitful  airs  set  in  motion  by  the 
whirl  of  the  dancers.  It  seemed  to  be  taking  its  part  in 
the  revel  with  delight.  It  had  its  moments  of  excitement 
when  the  music  went  mad  towards  the  end  of  a  dance,  and 
the  pace  became  frantic.  Then  it  would  flutter  fan-like 
with  pennants  streaming  in  time  to  the  tune,  and  only 
gradually  cease  to  wave  as  the  room  emptied,  after  the 
crash  of  the  final  chords.  I  was  fascinated  by  the  emo- 
tions of  that  leaf,  or  rather  its  demonstrations  of  emotion, 
and  found  myself  gauging  the  success  of  the  entertain- 
ment by  it.  When  the  spirit  of  the  ball  was  at  its  highest, 
there  seemed  to  be  an  extra  shine  on  its  glossy  surface,  but 
as  the  night  waned  and  exhaustion  began  to  sap  the  ener- 
gy of  the  dancers,  the  dust  settled  and  the  leaf  grew  dim. 
It  quivered  still  as  the  rooms  thinned,  but  no  longer 
waved  ;  and  when  the  last  carriage  had  driven  away  I 
found  it  drooping  in  the  vitiated  air.  Tliere  was  a  lounge 
beneath  it,  and  on  this  Evangeline,  who  was  also  droop- 


102  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

ing  by  this  time,  had  thrown  herself.  I  had  seen  her, 
during  the  evening,  sitting  there  with  Perceval,  laugh- 
ing and  looking  into  his  eyes.  The  arm  of  the  plant 
was  held  out  over  her  then,  but  whether  menacingly  or 
whether  to  protect  her,  I  could  not  tell.  It  might  have 
had  an  evil  spirit  in  it  encouraging  her  to  her  destruc- 
tion, or  a  good  one  warning  her  back ;  and  my  imagina- 
tion busied  itself  with  both  possibilities.  I  longed  to  be 
allowed  to  look  into  the  future  for  a  moment,  so  that  I 
might  see  enough  to  interpret  the  sign;  but  my  soul 
yearned  and  ached  on  in  that  direction  vainly :  it  was 
all  impenetrably  dark.  From  that  moment,  however,  the 
great  glossy  plume  of  the  palm  seemed  somehow  to  be 
specially  associated  with  Evangeline,  and  before  I  saw 
them  drooping  together  I  had  felt  that  I  should  find  her 
there. 

Lady  Marsh  had  retired  by  that  time,  the  men  were  in 
the  smoking-room,  and  only  we  three  girls  were  left  of 
the  brilliant  crowd  that  had  flaunted  there  so  short  a  time 
before.  Scraps  of  ribbon  and  lace  and  tulle,  torn  gloves 
and  faded  flowers,  bedraggled  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the 
ball,  strewed  the  floor.  At  the  farther  end  of  the  room  a 
servant  was  putting  out  the  lights. 

"I  am  tired  to  death,"  Evangeline  said,  with  a 
yawn. 

"  Tired,  but  happy,  I  hope  ?  "  Adalesa  answered,  with 
peculiar  gentleness. 

Evangeline  looked  sharply  at  her,  doubtless  to  see  if 
she  meant  it,  before  she  replied  with  effusion :  "  Oh,  yes, 
darling,  thank  you.  I  have  enjoyed  myself  !  I  hope  we 
all  have  !     But  I'm  dying  of  hunger." 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  IO3 

I  went  with  Adalesa  to  fetch  something  to  eat  from 
the  supper- room,  and  at  the  same  time  I  brought  a  jug  of 
water  for  the  palm. 

IX. 

Perceval  had  come  down  for  the  dance,  and  was  to 
stay  a  few  days.  He  was  in  every  way  an  eligible,  and 
Lady  Marsh  was  exceedingly  gracious  to  him  ;  but  I  could 
see  that  Sir  Henry  was  inspecting  him  critically,  as  if  he 
were  not  sure  of  him,  and  our  attitude  towards  the  young 
man  also  came  in  for  a  share  of  Sir  Henry's  attention. 
Mine  was  morose,  I  confess ;  in  Adalesa's  eyes  was  per- 
petual pained  inquiry ;  only  Evangeline  was  natural  and 
happy.  She  was  extra  gentle,  and  gracious  too,  as  if 
amiably  disposed  to  atone  for  what  must  have  looked  like 
our  shortcomings. 

The  morning  after  the  great  event  we  did  nothing  but 
discuss  the  ball.  At  luncheon,  however.  Sir  Henry  sug- 
gested that  we  should  go  out :  "  Rest  is  the  right  thing 
after  a  dance,"  he  said,  "  and  then  exercise  in  the  open 
air.     You  four  young  people  should  go  for  a  ride." 

Evangeline  put  on  a  pretty  little  pout.  "  I  am  afraid 
/  can't,"  she  said,  in  a  heigh-ho  tone.  "  My  horse  has 
gone  to  be  shod." 

"  I  wondered  why  you  insisted  on  sending  him  this 
morning,"  Adalesa  muttered. 

"  But  why  shouldn't  you  three  go  without  me  ?  "  Evan- 
geline said  sweetly. 

"Why  shouldn't  yoii  ride  some  other  horse?"  Sir 
Henry  asked,  rather  sternly. 

"Nothing  would  induce  me  to,"  she  answered  with 


104  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

her  set  smile,  looking  him  full  in  the  face ;  after  which 
she  rose  with  an  easy,  unconstrained  air,  carefully  brushed 
a  crumb  from  the  front  of  her  dress,  and  left  the  room, 
humming  a  little  tune. 

Adalesa  had  also  risen  from  the  table. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  ?  "  I  asked,  following  her 
into  the  hall. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  sombrely.  "  Evangeline  is 
going  to  carry  out  some  manoeuvre  of  her  own." 

"  Adalesa !  "  Lady  Marsh  called. 

We  returned  to  the  dining-room.  The  two  old  people 
were  still  at  table,  but  Perceval  was  standing  at  one  of  the 
open  windows,  looking  out  into  the  garden. 

"  Just  run  upstairs,  dear  child,"  Lady  Marsh  added, 
"  and  see  if  you  can  find  my  yellow-and-black  sunshade. 
It's  somewhere,  I'm  sure." 

Adalesa  complied  without  a  word,  but  she  sauntered 
off  slowly,  as  if  reluctant  to  go. 

"  That  child  is  so  ungracious  at  times,"  Lady  Marsh 
observed  to  Sir  Henry  in  a  stage  aside.  "  She  compares 
unfavourably  with  Evangeline,  I  am  afraid.  Evangeline 
is  always  so  sweetly  unselfish  and  good." 

Sir  Henry  pursed  up  his  mouth,  and  toyed  with  a 
glass  on  the  table.  Perceval's  back  was  turned  to  us,  but 
I  fancied  I  saw  him  stiffen  to  attention  when  Lady  Marsh 
mentioned  Evangeline,  and  I  believed  the  young  man  had 
heard  and  marked,  for  all  the  air  of  indifference  with 
which  he  affected  to  look  out  over  the  lawn. 

It  was  one  of  those  radiant  days  when  one  seems  to  see 
the  heat  throbbing  in  the  crystal  atmosphere.  The  gar- 
den borders  were  a  blaze  of  colour.     The  odour  of  mignon- 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  105 

ette  streamed  in  through  the  open  windows.  Perceval 
looked  out  sleepily  a  little  longer;  then  suddenly  the 
dreamy  look  in  his  eyes  gave  way  to  a  flash  of  interest. 
He  said  something  about  fetching  a  hat,  and  left  the  room 
as  if  with  a  purpose.  Evangeline  had  appeared  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lawn,  lingering  among  the  roses,  with  a 
pair  of  scissors  in  her  hand ;  but,  judging  by  the  way  she 
lifted  a  heavy  bud  here,  touching  it  tenderly,  or  stooped 
to  inhale  the  fragrance  of  a  full-blown  flower  there,  she 
was  reluctant  to  gather  them.  Perhaps  she  thought  it 
cruel  to  shorten  their  pretty  lives  !  At  all  events  she  hesi- 
tated, and  in  that  attitude  she  made  a  charming  picture ; 
and  I  am  sure  Perceval  must  have  thought  so  as  he  crossed 
the  lawn.  She  had  apparently  not  heard  him  approach, 
for  she  started  and  blushed  when  he  accosted  her,  then 
looked  up  and  said  something  in  her  winning  way,  to 
which  he  responded  smiling.  Then  they  turned  off  down 
a  shady  alley  together,  and  disappeared  from  sight. 

Adalesa  returned  without  the  parasol,  but  Lady  Marsh 
did  not  seem  disturbed  because  she  had  failed  to  find  it. 

The  whole  day  passed,  looking  like  other  days  on  the 
surface,  and  the  night  with  its  heavy  shadows  settled 
down  silently.  When  we  went  to  bed  I  hoped  Adalesa 
would  come  to  my  room  and  talk  the  trouble  out,  and  I 
waited  awhile,  but  as  she  did  not  come  I  went  to  her. 
She  had  taken  oflf  her  dress,  and  was  standing  at  her  win- 
dow looking  out.  Her  bull  dog  sat  beside  her  on  the 
floor,  leaning  against  her  and  looking  up  at  her  sympa- 
thetically. I  was  oppressed  by  a  horrid  sense  of  things 
gone  wrong,  and  he  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  the 
same. 


106  THE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

*'  I  thought  I  had  said  good-night  to  you,"  Adalesa 
muttered,  turning  on  me  as  I  entered. 

"  I  hoped  you  would  come  to  my  room,"  I  replied. 

She  looked  at  me  intently  from  under  her  dark  eye- 
brows ;  but  I  doubt  if  she  saw  me. 

"  He  has  not  spoken,"  she  said  at  last.  "  He  treats 
me  as  if  we  had  never  met  before.  That  is  all  there  is  to 
tell  you.  Now  go  :  excuse  me,  but  1  am  better  alone.  I 
want  to  think." 

The  dog  whined  and  nestled  up  closer,  and  the  sound 
of  a  great,  deep,  human  sigh,  almost  a  moan,  accompanied 
me  down  the  dark  corridor  as  I  returned  to  my  room. 

But  my  nerves  were  strained  by  that  time.  My  own 
breath  came  in  a  succession  of  sighs ;  and,  in  order  to 
tranquillise  myself,  I  went  and  sat  by  the  open  window, 
and  leant  out,  looking  at  the  misty  margins  of  the  moon- 
lit spaces,  and  listening  to  the  inarticulate  murmurs  of 
the  night.  Very  soon  the  sense  of  silence  settled  upon 
my  spirit  soothingly,  and  I  was  beginning  to  feel  as  if  I 
could  lie  down  and  rest,  when  all  at  once  my  attention 
was  quickened  by  a  sharp  sound  from  below — the  sound 
of  gravel  crunched  by  a  springy  footstep.  I  knew  who  it 
was  before  I  saw  her.  What  was  she  going  to  do  ?  And 
oh,  what  a  waste  of  good  emotion  upon  a  worthless  object 
all  this  seemed ! 

I  had  taken  off  my  evening  dress  when  I  came  up- 
stairs, and  now  had  only  to  slip  on  a  cap  and  a  pair  of 
walking  shoes,  which  I  did  not  wait  to  lace,  and  snatch  a 
long  cloak  from  my  wardrobe,  and  I  was  ready  to  follow 
her.  I  had  to  put  the  cloak  on  and  button  it  as  I  went, 
but  I  was  in  time  to  see  which  road  she  took.     It  was  the 


THE   YELLOW  LEAP.  107 

road  through  the  wood  to  the  sea.  She  had  on  her  short- 
est gown  again,  with  her  elf-locks  hanging,  and  nothing 
on  her  head.  Her  faithful  brindle,  rubbing  up  against 
her  still,  endeavoured  to  keep  pace  with  her,  snuffling  as 
he  went.  I  could  hear  him.  But  she  took  no  notice  of 
him.  She  was  looking  on  ahead  with  the  same  kind  of 
look,  I  imagined,  as  that  with  which  she  had  greeted  me 
when  I  went  to  her  room  ;  yet  her  gait  was  not  at  all 
agitated,  but  rather  lingering,  as  if  she  were  taking  the 
air  in  a  leisurely  way.  Had  I  not  known  she  was  in  trou- 
ble I  should  have  supposed  that  she  was  enjoying  the 
novelty  of  being  out  alone  at  that  hour.  It  was  dark  in 
the  wood,  but  she  seemed  sure  of  the  way,  and  walked  on 
confidently  until  she  passed  out  from  under  the  trees  on 
to  the  sand-dunes.  Here  she  paused  a  moment,  looking 
up  to  where,  on  the  left,  the  tall  cliffs  rose  bold  and  black 
against  the  night  sky.  On  in  front  the  moonlight  silvered 
the  sea.  It  was  a  desolate  scene.  The  tide  was  a  long 
way  out.  For  a  moment  I  thought  she  was  going  to  turn 
back,  but  she  was  merely  looking  about  her  before  she 
went  a  little  farther  on  and  sat  herself  down  on  the  shore. 
Her  dog  nestled  closer,  and  uttered  a  piteous  "  Whuff!" 
and  then  she  looked  at  him  for  the  first  time,  and  put  her 
arm  round  him,  and  rested  her  cheek  on  his  big  broad 
forehead,  which  seemed  to  satisfy  him. 

I  made  a  little  detour  to  the  right  among  the  sand- 
hills, and  stole  up  closer,  so  as  to  see  her  without  being 
seen.  She  was  gazing  at  the  broad  path  of  light  made  by 
the  moon  on  the  water.  She  was  passionately  fond  of  her 
father,  and  that  was  the  way  he  would  come.     Did  she 

remember? 

8 


108  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

The  wind  soughed  among  the  sandhills,  rustling  the 
rank  grass.  The  eternal  sea-song  sounded  afar  off,  muf- 
fled, monotonous,  yet  mighty  in  that  it  was  eternal.  It 
made  me  wonder  once  more  if  the  sufferings  of  such 
ephemeral  specks  in  the  great  universe  as  we  are  could 
possibly  signify.  AVe  seemed  so  unimportant,  out  there 
on  the  barren  sands,  that,  for  the  first  time  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  I  ceased  to  care  what  became  of  us.  I  lay  my 
length  upon  the  dry,  white  sand,  pillowing  my  head  upon 
my  folded  arms  in  front  of  me,  inhaling  deep  draughts  of 
the  sea-sweet  air  and  rejoicing  in  its  healthy  fragrance. 
Then  for  awhile  I  w^atched  the  gem-like  stars  shine  out  in 
the  radiant  blue  dark  above  me,  and  saw  the  shadows  shift 
upon  the  cliffs,  and  the  sea  approaching.  By  that  light 
the  wavelets  showed  black-grey,  like  shining  flints,  wdth 
clialk-white  rims  for  crests.  When  Adalesa  sat  down 
they  were  too  far  off  to  be  distinguished  except  as  a  dark, 
moving  mass,  relieved  by  burnished  sparks  and  flashes  of 
moonlight ;  but  before  she  rose  they  were  close  upon  her ; 
the  moon  had  set,  the  stars  were  extinguished,  and  low 
down  in  the  east  the  grey  dawn  shone  primrose  and  green 
and  white  shot  with  flame  in  opaline  splendour. 

X. 

I  BELIEVE  in  my  heart  that  Sir  Henry,  in  his  quiet 
way,  had  more  real  sympathy  with  us  girls,  and  more 
comprehension  of  us,  than  Lady  Marsh,  for  all  her 
demonstrations.  It  was  to  him  I  should  have  gone  in 
any  trouble  rather  than  to  her,  I  know ;  and  I  suppose 
Adalesa  felt  the  same ;  for  when  she  crawled  down  next 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  109 

morning,  very  late,  she  encountered  me  in  the  hall,  and 
asked  me  where  he  was,  and  then,,  slipping  her  hand 
through  my  arm,  drew  me  along  with  her  to  look  for 
him.  He  was  sitting  alone  in  the  dining-room  in  an  easy- 
chair,  reading  a  newspaper,  which  he  put  down  when  we 
entered.  Adalesa  went  up  to  him  and  kissed  him,  and 
then  sat  herself  down  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  She 
moved  listlessly,  as  if  there  were  no  life  left  in  her,  and 
looked  ill,  and  I  could  see  that  her  uncle  observed  her 
with  particular  attention  as  she  approached. 

"You  did  not  come  down  to  breakfast,"  he  said 
tentatively. 

"No,"  she  answered.  Then  she  put  her  arm  round 
his  neck,  and  rested  her  cheek  on  his  head.  "  I  don't 
want  to  come  down  again,"  she  added,  with  an  effort. 
"  I  want  to  go  away  from  here — at  once." 

Sir  Henry  seemed  to  reflect.  "  What  is  the  matter, 
little  girl  ?  "  he  said  at  last.     "  Any  thing  mentiouable?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  I  want  to  go  and  meet  my 
father.  If  you  will  telegraph  to  Aunt  Morris  she  will  be 
glad  to  have  me.     I  want  to  wait  for  him  there,  in  town." 

Again  Sir  Henry  took  time  to  reflect.  "  Well,"  he 
said  at  last,  slowly,  "you  shall  go,  and  at  once  too,  if  you 
like." 

He  looked  at  me  when  she  left  us.  "  You  know  what 
is  wrong,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Nothing  mentionable,"  I  answered. 

He  smiled  at  the  retort,  and  then  shook  his  head. 
"  Not  mentionable,"  he  repeated — "  no,  nor  visible.  One 
scents  it,  though,  without  seeing  it.  One  feels  it  in  the 
air.     It  is  knowable  without  being  nameable.     But  if  one 


110  THE   YELLOW   LEAP. 

could  name  it  one  would  call  it "    He  gave  me  one  of 

his  shrewd  glances. 

"  Treachery,"  I  blurted  out.  "  Robbery  with  violence 
— and  you  will  be  sanctioning  it  with  a  blessing  by- 
and-by." 

He  seemed  amused  at  my  vehemence.  "  It  is  contrary 
to  the  law  to  condemn  without  proof,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
here  to  administer  the  law,  and  if  I  am  not  furnished 
with  any  proof  of  guilt,  I  must  acquit." 

And  so  it  seemed,  for  my  tongue  was  tied. 

I  should  have  expected  fight  rather  than  flight  from 
Adalesa ;  but  perhaps  some  sense  of  the  unworthiness  of 
such  a  contest  restrained  her,  for  the  girl  was  self- 
respecting. 

She  left  us  early  that  afternoon,  "  to  await  her  father's 
arrival  in  town  " — which  was  great  nonsense,  Lady  Marsh 
said,  since  it  was  so  uncertain  when  he  would  come ;  but 
Adalesa  could  do  what  she  liked  with  her  uncle,  and 
when  he  ordered  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  obey. 

Late  that  night  Evangeline  came  to  my  room  in  a 
flutter.  "  It  is  just  as  I  suspected,"  she  burst  out.  "  He 
has  told  me  all  about  it.  He  never  really  loved  her. 
But  he  did  not  know  his  own  mind  until " 

"  Until  you  stepped  in  ?  " 

"  Until  she  went  off  in  that  heartless  way  to-day.  He 
was  afraid  she  might  care  for  him,  but  you  see  for  your- 
self no20  !  So  he  has  written  to  tell  her  he  understands 
by  her  going  that  she  wishes  to  be  released,  and  therefore 
he  offers  to  release  her.  He  didn't  utter  a  word  of  re- 
proach, I  know,  for  he  showed  me  the  letter." 

*'  Noble  creature  ! "  I  ejaculated. 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  HI 

"  Is  he  not ! "  she  exclaimed  with  enthusiasm.  "  And 
— oh,  don't  be  cold  and.  horrid  ! "  She  caught  my  arm 
and  fairly  shook  me  in  her  wild  excitement.  "  Do  con- 
gratulate me  !  " 

"  What,  so  soon  ?  "  I  cried  aghast. 

"  Oh,  you  wonH  understand,"  she  rejoined,  wringing 
her  hands.  "Yet  you  know,  you  must  know,  that  a 
young  man  may  make  a  mistake.  They  were  utterly 
unsuited.  It  is  all  for  the  best.  They  would  only  have 
made  each  other  miserable." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right,"  I  said,  upon  reflection. 
"  Adalesa  is  certainly  difficult.  And  she  is  far  above  the 
average  too.  But  I  shall  wait  for  the  second  part  of  the 
piece  before  I  offer  any  of  you  my  congratulations." 

"  You  are  horrid  ! "  Evangeline  exclaimed,  with  tears 
of  mortification  in  her  eyes.  "And  now  I  know  why 
some  of  the  girls  at  school  said  nasty  things  about  you." 


PART  II. 


"  I  have  lived  long  enough  :  my  way  of  life 
Is  fallen  into  the  sere,  the  yellow  leaf." 

XL 

It  arrived  to  me,  as  the  French  phrase  it,  to  wait  once 
more  for  a  midday  train  at  that  same  station  from  which 
I  journeyed  on  the  occasion  when  Adalesa  and  I  had  first 
encountered  each  other,  and  to  lose  myself — and  my  train 
again,  very  nearly — in  the  contemplation  of  the  crowd 
about  me.     Pullman  cars  had  come  into  existence  by  this 


112  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

time  ;  and  instead  of  coming  to  in  a  third-class  compart- 
ment, as  on  that  first  occasion,  I  awoke  in  my  rightful 
place  in  one  of  these  ;  and,  on  looking  out  of  the  window 
on  my  left,  saw  something  familiar  in  the  shifting  scene 
that  recalled  the  bygone  time  with  a  flash.  Involuntarily 
I  glanced  to  the  opposite  end  of  the  carriage ;  and  there, 
on  the  same  side  as  myself,  facing  me,  sat  a  slender,  ele- 
gant woman,  whose  dark  eyes  met  mine  with  a  look  of  in- 
quiry, which  resulted  in  a  sudden  mutual  recognition  of 
each  other.  We  rose  simultaneously,  and  meeting  half- 
way, embraced,  there  being  no  spectator,  happily,  whose 
presence  might  have  checked  the  impulse.  Adalesa  re- 
turned with  me  to  my  corner  and  sank  into  the  opposite 
seat. 

"  History  repeats  itself,"  she  said. 

"  Only  the  framework  :  the  details  are  different,"  I  re- 
plied, recalling  the  tall,  gaunt  girl,  who  had  thrown  her- 
self so  recklessly  across  the  intervening  space,  and  com- 
paring her  with  this  richly-dressed  woman,  whose  every 
move  was  marked  with  a  slow,  deliberate  grace,  as  capti- 
vatinsr  as  it  was  disrnified.  "  When  we  first  met  we  had 
everything  to  look  forward  to,  but  now  we  must  both  look 
back." 

"  True,"  she  said.  "  Yet  our  destination  is  the  same, 
I  imagine.     I  am  again  going  to  my  Aunt  Marsh." 

"  So  am  I,"  I  answered,  "  to  welcome  Evangeline  back 
from  Brazil.  I  haven't  seen  her  since  her  marriage.  Her 
husband  is  something  out  there,  isn't  he?" 

"  Yes — silver,  or  diamonds,  or  something.  Dear  Per- 
ceval !  Do  you  remember  him  ?  But  of  course  you  re- 
member him  ! "  she  concluded,  in  the  old  downright  way, 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  113 

laughing  a  little  as  she  spoke.  Then  she  said,  with  a  sigh, 
seriously,  "  But  if  you  have  not  met  any  of  them  since  the 
marriage,  I  am  afraid  you  will  see  great  changes." 

"  Changes  are  what  one  alwavs  seems  to  be  seeins: 
from  the  moment  one  has  lived  long  enough  to  compare 
this  with  that,"  I  answered.  "  Just  now  I  am  conscious 
of  a  great  change  in  myself.  You  didn't  notice  me  '  pea- 
cocking '  about  the  station  this  time,  and  wonder  if  I  were 
anybody  because  of  the  airs  I  gave  myself." 

Adalesa  smiled. 

"And  I  don't  want  to  read  the  advertisements  any 
more.  Just  look  at  the  hideous  procession  !  I  vow  I 
never  will  use  anything  that  is  advertised  to  death  like 
that." 

"  It  would  be  no  pleasure  to  you  now  to  be  recog- 
nised ?  "  Adalesa  asked. 

"  Oh,  none,"  I  answered.  "  I  caught  my  train  to-day 
because  I  heard  my  name  mentioned,  and  slunk  into  the 
carriage  for  fear  my  face  should  also  be  known.  Yet  I 
remember  what  the  joy  would  have  been " 

"  Had  it  come  earlier  ?  But  you  anticipated  it.  I  re- 
member so  many  sayings  of  yours  that  show  you  must 
have  felt  you  would  be  known." 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself,"  I  put  in. 

"  Oh,  I  am  distinguished  too  in  my  own  way,"  she  an- 
swered, in  the  old  vein.  "  I  lounge  about  the  world,  lov- 
ing my  husband,  and  longing  for  the  babes  that  never 
come  ;  and  it  is  such  an  extraordinary  thing  for  a  duchess 
to  do  that  I  get  a  kind  of  credit  for  it,  which  I  enjoy. 
You  always  said  I  should  end  by  being  something  ec- 
centric." ........^ 

f      ^   Of  THt 

UNIVERSITY 


114  THE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

"  What  became  of  Brindle  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Poor  dear  old  boy  ! "  she  ejaculated.  "  He  at- 
tained to  an  honourable  old  age,  and  only  lately — left 
me." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  night  on  the  shore  ?  "  slipped 
from  me  unawares. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows,  and  looked  at  me  inter- 
rogatively ;  and  then  I  was  obliged  to  confess  that  I  had 
followed  her.  "I  thought  you  had  some  desperate  in- 
tent," I  explained,  apologetically. 

"  Such  an  idiotic  idea  would  never  have  occurred  to 
me,"  she  answ^ered  bluntly.  "  It  is  your  old-fashioned 
peoj^le  w^ho  do  that.  I  knew  even  then  that  there  are  more 
emotions  than  one  worth  living  for,  if  I  did  not  suspect 
that  even  that  one,  when  abortive,  might  repeat  itself  per- 
fectly. The  barren  sands,  with  the  sea,  and  the  night  sky 
arching  over  all,  invited  me,  that  was  all.  I  stole  out  to 
secure  the  sense  of  immensity  w^hich  is  sustaining  and  en- 
nobling as  well  as  being  restful.  I  thought  I  should  find 
there  w^hat  would  enable  me  to  renounce — and  I  succeeded. 
I  am  most  devoutly  thankful  to  say  that  I  succeeded." 
She  had  clasped  her  hands  as  she  uttered  these  w^ords,  and 
was  silent  for  a  little  afterwards.  Then  her  countenance 
cleared,  and  she  turned  to  me  with  the  air  of  one  w^ho  has 
put  something  serious  aside,  and  means  to  be  brighter. 
"  Tell  me  about  yourself,"  she  said.  "  Why  did  you 
never  answer  my  letters  ?  " 

"  For  fear  of  having  to  do  so  again  ! "  I  replied. 

"  Try  another,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Because  I  had  nothing  to  say." 

"  That's  no  better.     Once  more." 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  115 

"  Well,  because  I  had  too  much  to  say." 

"  I  should  think  so  !  "  she  ejaculated. 

"  And  after  all,"  I  protested,  "  I  am  only  an  onlooker. 
I  am  always  an  onlooker,  with  no  claim  to  a  personality 
of  my  own  which  would  interest  my  friends.  I  see  and 
foresee.  I  have  seen  the  setting  of  several  old  ideas,  and 
the  dawn  of  divers  new  ones.  The  electric  light  has  come 
to  extinguish  the  gas,  and  London  is  bursting  out  into 
flats,  huge  caravansaries,  admirably  arranged  for  the  cre- 
mation of  the  dead  in  case  of  fire.  Eternal  punishment  no 
longer  holds  up  its  head  ;  and  the  commercial  part  of  the 
church  enterprise  will  soon  be  in  a  bad  way  if  the  priests 
don't  discover  that  we  shall  all  reappear  rich  and  beauti- 
ful on  earth  if  we  are  good.  That  is  all  I  can  think  of  at 
this  moment." 

Adalesa's  eyes  twinkled,  but  she  said  nothing ;  and  we 
both  looked  out  of  the  window  in  silence  for  awhile,  the 
truth  being  that  we  were  suffering  from  the  pressure  of  too 
much  to  say,  so  that  our  words  only  came  out  in  jerks  like 
water  glug-glugging  from  full  bottles.  We  had  not  met 
because  I  had  been  abroad  so  much  ;  but  of  course  we  had 
received  all  the  important  heads  of  intelligence  concerning 
each  other ;  and  I  confess  that  I  crowed  when  the  news 
came  that  Adalesa  had  proved  to  have  been  her  Aunt 
Marsh's  ugly  duckling  by  marrying  a  duke. 

At  the  station  we  found  carriages  waiting  for  us  and 
our  servants;  Barkins,  now  a  very  old  man,  being  on  the 
box  of  one  of  them. 

"Ah,  Barkins,  my  friend,  how  are  you?"  Adalesa  ex- 
claimed, reaching  up  to  shake  hands  with  him.  "  So 
you've  come  to  drive  me  yourself  ?     I  call  that  kind  j  for 


il6  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

I  know  you  don't  often  drive  anybody  but  her  ladyship 
now." 

"  Eh,"  lie  rejoined,  touching  his  hat,  "  I'd  be  main 
bad  when  I  didn't  come  to  fetch  your  grace.  You'll  not 
be  driving  madam  there  to-day,  perhaps?"  he  added, 
grinning. 

"  Barkins  will  never  forget  our  first  arrival  together," 
Adalesa  said,  when  we  were  seated.  "  But,  oh,  the  like  in. 
unlikeness  to-day !  Look  round :  the  station — the  trees 
— the  fields — the  very  dust  on  the  road  is  exactly  the 
same ;  but  look  at  us !  My  heart  contracts ;  yet  I  don't 
know  why,  for  I  am  happier  now " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence ;  but  I  knew  what  she 
meant,  for  I  felt  very  much  the  same.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain solemn  satisfaction  in  the  feeling,  though  I  cannot 
explain  it;  but  I  would  not  have  had  the  day  that  was 
dead  back  for  all  "  the  tender  grace"  of  it.  One  change 
in  myself  I  noticed  with  interest.  The  first  time  I  had 
driven  along  that  road  I  was  all  anticipation,  but  now  I 
found  in  myself  nothing  but  reflection.  The  principal 
events  in  life  lay  behind  me ;  I  could  think  of  but  little 
more  that  there  might  be  to  come. 

As  we  approached  the  house,  I  was  again  struck  with 
the  air  of  affluence  about  the  place.  It  looked  like  a  toy 
territory,  all  spick  and  span,  and  there  was  such  an  affec- 
tation of  defence  about  it  in  the  crenelated  walls  that 
bounded  the  chase,  and  the  castellation  of  every  building, 
from  lodge  to  coach-house,  that  one  almost  expected  to 
see  ornamental  soldiers  at  regular  intervals,  ordering  arms 
mechanically. 

Lady  Marsh  did  not  come  out  to  meet  us  this  time — 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  117 

another  note  of  change.  She  found  it  necessary  to  save 
herself  as  much  as  possible  now.  But  she  rose  and  came 
forward  to  receive  us  with  the  stiff  haste  of  age,  when  we 
were  shown  into  the  drawing-room,  embraced  us  both  ten- 
derly, then  held  us  off  from  her,  each  by  a  hand,  looked 
at  us,  shook  her  head,  sighed,  and  looked  again,  especially 
at  me,  whom  she  had  not  seen  in  the  interval.  While  we 
were  greeting  each  other,  Sir  Henry  came  pottering  in — 
oh,  so  shrunken  in  appearance,  but  more  benign  than 
ever.  Adalesa  seized  upon  him,  hugged  him,  wheeled  up 
a  big  easy  chair  for  him,  and  then  sat  herself  down  on  a 
stool  at  his  feet,  with  her  arm  on  his  knee.  The  old 
man's  hand  wandered  over  her  head,  and  rested  on  her 
neck,  and  she  took  it  in  hers  and  held  it,  after  which  they 
both  seemed  satisfied. 

"Adalesa,  darling,  it  is  so  sweet  to  see  you  again,'* 
Lady  Marsh  exclaimed,  turning  round  upon  her  just  as 
she  had  settled  herself ;  "  but  wouldn't  you  be  more  com- 
fortable in  a  proper  chair  ?  " 

"  We're  all  right,  thank  you,  dear  Aunt  Marsh,"  Ada- 
lesa said ;  and  I  saw  her  signal  to  her  uncle  by  squeezing 
his  hand,  upon  which  he  leant  back  in  his  chair  and 
looked  up  at  the  ceiling  abstractedly.  But  the  little  scene 
was  reassuring,  showing  as  it  did  that  in  point  of  charac- 
ter there  was  no  disheartening  difference  here. 

There  were  three  other  ladies  present — Lady  Parkin- 
son and  Miss  Creamer  Patterson,  both  women  of  prop- 
erty living  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  had  come  to  call ; 
and  a  Mrs.  Crowther,  who  was  staying  in  the  house,  a 
somewhat  simpering,  excessively-dressed,  youngish  per- 
son, the  kind  of  pretty  thing  who  lights  up  when  men 


lis  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

are  present,  but  languishes  if  there  are  only  ladies  in  the 
room. 

Before  we  had  well  settled  ourselves,  yet  another  lady, 
of  much  the  same  age  and  type  as  Mrs.  Crowther,  but 
looking  more  animated  for  the  moment,  hurried  across 
the  lawn,  entered  by  one  of  the  open  windows,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  embrace  Adalesa  with  effusion.  Then  she 
turned  to  me  with  the  same  intention,  but  I  was  so  sur- 
prised that  I  hung  back,  and  it  was  some  seconds  before 
it  dawned  upon  me  that  this  must  be  Evangeline. 

"  I  believe  you  don't  know  me  !  "  she  ejaculated  ;  and 
I  could  see  that  this  was  a  shock  to  her.  Patches  of  red 
appeared  on  her  somewhat  sunken,  sallow  cheeks,  and  the 
look  in  her  eyes  quite  startled  me,  it  was  so  scared.  She 
had  evidently  had  no  notion  of  the  change  in  herself  until 
I  failed  to  recognise  her,  and  had  perhaps  been  cherishing 
the  fond  delusion  that,  however  much  others  might  alter, 
time  had  only  touched  her  charms  to  round  and  ripen 
them.  "  I  should  have  known  you  anywhere,"  she  added 
reproachfully. 

"  And  I  you — by  your  voice."  I  blundered  again,  in 
my  anxiety  to  be  truthful  as  well  as  to  atone.  I  felt  angry 
w^ith  Adalesa.  She  should  have  prepared  me.  Changes, 
indeed  !     Evangeline  was  a  wreck. 

"  I  know  I  am  looking  washed  out,"  she  continued, 
glancing  anxiously  from  one  to  the  other  of  us.  "  The 
hot  climate,  you  know.  But  one  always  recovers  one's 
complexion  at  home." 

The  manner  was  much  the  same,  at  all  events,  show- 
ing that  here  again  in  her  case  the  change  had  been  in- 
complete, which  was  a  pity  ;  for  the  simplicity  which  had 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  119 

been  winsome  at  eighteen  seemed  silliness  now,  and  the 
little  moues  and  attitudes  she  still  al!ected  sat  incongru- 
ously upon  her  altered  looks.  She  was  girlishly  dressed, 
in  a  white  frock  and  a  large  hat,  much  as  she  might  have 
been  when  first  we  met.  Her  unconcealed  sensitiveness 
about  her  appearance  had  made  us  all  feel  awkward  for  a 
moment;  but  Lady  Marsh  diverted  the  rest  of  the  party 
by  directing  their  attention  to  me. 

"So  now  you  write  books?"  she  said,  shaking  her 
head  involuntarily. 

Miss  Creamer  Patterson  changed  countenance,  and 
edged  her  chair  away  from  me  a  little,  and  then  edged  it 
back  again,  as  if,  on  second  thoughts,  she  regretted  the 
impulse.  Old  Lady  Parkinson  peered  at  me,  with  undis- 
guised interest,  through  a  single  eyeglass.  She  was  pre- 
pared to  relish  any  impropriety  there  might  be  in  my  oc- 
cupation. 

"  Do  tell  me  how  you  do  it,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone, 
looking  about  her  mysteriously,  and  then  leaning  forward 
as  if  she  were  about  to  hear  something  one  only  mentions 
in  a  whisper.  "  I  am  curious  to  know  how  things  are 
written.  I've  often  thought  I  should  like  to  do  something 
of  that  kind  m3^self — on  the  sly,  yoii  Icnow.  It  must  be 
so  pleasant  to  write  things.  But,"  she  added  quickly,  "  I 
shouldn't  like  to  do  anything  to  interfere  with  my  night's 
rest." 

Miss  Creamer  Patterson,  having  overcome  her  first  in- 
stinctive shrinking,  and  being  kindly  anxious  to  atone  if 
she  had  hurt  my  feelings,  now  decided  to  countenance  me, 
while,  of  course,  carefully  avoiding  any  allusion  to  my 
lapse. 


120  TDE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

"  It  has  been  a  very  dull  day,"  she  said. 

But  before  I  could  do  more  than  glance  at  her  in  re- 
sponse, Lady  Parkinson  began  again. 

"  And  when  you  write  a  book  do  you  put  in  the  stops 
yourself?  Stops  and  everything  !  Oh,  no!  not  the  stops, 
of  course  !     All  that  must  be  done  for  you." 

This  was  added  as  if  she  feared  I  should  think  she  had 
been  expecting  too  much  of  me. 

"  It    is    really    most  •  enjoyable    weather "     Miss 

Creamer  Patterson  recommenced. 

"  But,  now,  do  tell  me,"  Lady  Parkinson  interposed. 
"Do  you  really  only  write  on  one  side  of  the  paper  ?  I've 
been  told  so,  but  one  never  knows.  People  spread  such 
reports  about,  you  know.  Then,  I  suppose,  you  make  your 
notes  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

"  This  is  most  enjoyable  weather  for  the  country," 
Miss  Creamer  Patterson  again  essayed,  with  exaggerated 
mildness — as  an  example,  doubtless,  to  Lady  Parkinson, 
wdio  spoke  out  authoritatively;  but  the  correction  was  lost 
upon  the  latter. 

"  You  must  write  very  legibly,  of  course,"  she  broke  in 
once  more. 

"  They  say  I  don't,"  I  had  time  to  reply.  "  But  it 
doesn't  much  matter  now,  as  we  can  have  our  things  type- 
WTitten." 

"  Ah !  type- written,"  Lady  Parkinson  repeated  know- 
ingly. "  I  know  what  that  is — that  long,  thin  kind  of 
writing.  They  put  it  on  cards  of  invitation.  But  it 
must  spoil  your  night's  rest.     Surely  it  does  ! " 

"  No,"  I  answered ;  "  I  only  write  in  the  morning. 
Large  entertainments  do  that  when  I  go  to  them  ;  but  I 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  121 

seldom  go.  People  are  never  at  their  best  in  a  crowd,  and 
I  like  to  see  my  friends  at  their  best.  Numbers  take  the 
individuality  out  of  them,  somehow;  and  the  man  or 
woman  who  is  excellent  good  company  by  one's  own  fire- 
side, feet  on  fender,  can  only  cackle  in  a  crowd  like  every- 
body else.  That  which  makes  us  kin  only  comes  out  at 
quiet  times.  When  there  is  silence,  we  say  an  augel  is 
passing.'* 

She  stared  at  me  vacantly,  as  though  not  comprehend- 
ing in  the  least,  and  then  her  eyes  wandered  over  the  floor 
as  if  she  were  looking  for  something. 

"  I  should  have  thought  it  would  interfere  with  your 
night's  rest,"  she  said  at  last.  "  And  of  course  it  must 
prevent  your  going  into  society  as  much  as  you  ought." 

"  Society  would  interfere  with  my  writing  if  I  would 
let  it,"  I  answered.     "  But  I  never  let  it.     I  hate  society." 

She  gave  a  sort  of  little  jump.  "  Hate  society ! "  she 
echoed  under  her  breath.     "  Oh  ! " 

If  I  had  blasphemed  she  could  not  have  been  more 
horrified. 

Mrs.  Crowther  and  Evangeline  were  talking  about 
some  lady-milliner. 

"I  don't  like  lady-milliners,  because  you  can't  beat 
them  down  in  their  prices,"  Mrs.  Crowther  declared  lan- 
guidly. 

"  That  is  so  like  you,  dear  child,"  Lady  Marsh  ejacu- 
lated. 

"  What  I  object  to  about  her  is  that  she  has  taken  to 
selling  cheap  things,"  Evangeline  remarked.  "  She  of- 
fered me  a  bonnet  for  two  guineas  the  other  day." 

"  Ridiculous  !  "  said  Mrs.  Crowther. 


123  THE  YELLOW  LEAP. 

Miss  Creamer  Patterson  had  had  a  little  confidential 
chat  with  Evangeline  since  she  last  addressed  me ;  and 
now  she  turned  and  beamed  upon  me  cordially.  "  I  hear 
you  are  a  cousin  by  marriage  of  the  dear  duchess's,"  she 
said. 

"  I  am  distantly  related  to  her  husband,"  I  answered 
stiffly,  seeing  that  she  meant  to  wait  until  I  spoke. 

"  I  hope  you'll  come  and  see  me,"  she  rejoined.  "  It 
has  been  nice  bright  weather  to-day,  hasn't  it?  But  the 
country  is  always  fresh,  don't  you  think  so  ?  I  was  three 
months  in  London  this  year.  I  am  going  to  give  an  at- 
home.  I  hope  you  will  come.  It  is  so  nice  to  have  inter- 
esting people  at  one's  parties,  you  know.  People  always 
like  to  meet  writers  and  that  kind  of  thing,  don't  you 
know — when  they  are  of  good  family.  Of  course  that  is 
the  difficulty.  But  there  are  some  undoubtedly — eccen- 
tric, don't  you  know ;  only  that  is  amusing,  and  people 
like  to  meet  them'.  Now,  you  will  come,  won't  you  ?  Do 
promise  me." 

On  the  way  upstairs  I  asked  Adalesa  if  she  thought 
women  were  ready  for  the  suffrage. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  carelessly.  "  Fe- 
male fools  are  not  worse  than  male  fools;  and  if  you 
tested  the  sexes  for  folly  by  examination  you  would  find 
them  much  of  a  muchness.  You  can't  make  flour  with- 
out corn,  my  dear.  When  people  have  nothing  to  think 
about  they  don't  think." 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  123 


XIL 

In"  going  through  the  old  house  I  became  aware  of  a 
change  in  it  also,  as  sorrowful  in  its  way  as  that  which  I 
had  observed  in  the  old  people.  I  remembered  it  as  spa- 
cious above  everything,  a  place  where  one's  lungs  rejoiced 
in  pure  air  always,  and  body  and  soul  could  expand 
healthily  and  be  at  ease.  It  had  been  Sir  Henry's  house 
at  that  time ;  but  as  the  years  rolled  on,  that  trick  of  not 
troubling  had  grown  upon  him,  and  he  had  retreated 
further  into  himself,  and  oftener  into  his  library,  leaving 
his  wife  and  daughter  to  have  their  way,  even  to  the  blot- 
ting out  of  every  sign  of  his  own  personality  if  they  chose, 
so  long  as  they  never  meddled  with  his  own  sanctum  and 
private  place  of  abode,  the  big  library.  There  he  and  the 
things  he  loved  grew  old  together  in  gentle  fellowship, 
built  up  of  interest  and  early  association ;  and  there  he 
had  preserved  the  space  he  had  been  born  to  move  in,  and 
kept  the  memory  of  his  people  and  the  traditions  of  his 
ancient  house  alive.  I  went  to  see  him  in  the  library  next 
morning,  and  found  him  with  a  little  book  in  his  hand, 
looking  idly  out  of  one  of  the  windows;  and,  coming 
upon  him  unawares,  surprised  a  look  of  patient  resigna- 
tion on  his  face  that  saddened  me.  It  was  a  grand  old 
age,  upright  and  uncomplaining,  but  terribly  pathetic  in 
its  loneliness.  Adalesa  was  the  one  creature  upon  earth, 
I  believe,  with  whom  his  soul  found  fellowship,  and  she 
did  what  she  could  for  him  with  joy,  her  great  grief  being 
that  they  could  not  meet  except  under  the  sombre  shadow 
of  an  approaching  parting :  "  If  only  you  were  a  pauper, 
9 


124:  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

Uncle  Henry,"  she  used  to  exclaim  in  her  quaint  way,  "  I 
could  have  you  with  me  always." 

Outside  that  room  the  house  was  crowded  now  to  suffo- 
cation with  curtains,  cushions,  couches,  ottomans,  and 
easy  chairs,  upholstered  in  the  modern  manner  with  mere 
trivialities  of  a  costly  fashion,  devoid  of  association  with 
the  past,  and  not  likely  or  even  intended  to  last  into  any 
distant  future.  It  was  decorated,  too,  in  excess  with  pic- 
tures, statues,  china,  arms  and  ornaments  of  every  sort, 
stuck  any-  and  everywhere  till  the  eye  was  satiated ;  and 
it  would  have  been  a  relief  to  it  to  have  found  a  square 
yard  of  old  oak  panelling  to  repose  upon,  and  a  stimulant 
to  the  mind  had  there  been  any  story  connected  with  the 
panel  to  arouse  reflection.  It  was  a  house  furnished  to 
death,  to  the  great  discomfort  of  people  like  myself,  who 
crave  for  light  to  luxuriate  in,  air  to  breathe,  and  space  in 
which  to  move  freely.  The  excessive  air  of  affluence  out  of 
doors  had  been  bad  enough  in  its  suggestion  of  a  little  toy 
territory,  but  indoors  it  was  worse,  being  oppressive. 
Every  appointment  was  too  luxurious,  and  it  seemed  im- 
possible for  human  beings  to  live  long  in  such  surround- 
ings and  not  become  enervated,  both  from  want  of  thought 
and  in  consequence  of  habitual  self-indulgence.  Lotus 
eaters  they  were  bound  to  be,  growing  flabbier  from  day 
to  day,  morally  and  physically,  through  having  had  every- 
thing excluded  from  their  lives  that  might  have  served  to 
stimulate  them  to  the  wholesome  exercise  of  their  minds 
and  muscles.  It  was  impossible  to  think  of  such  a  place 
as  belonging  to  a  man,  or  at  all  events  as  the  outcome  of  a 
vigorous  character.  Everything  about  it  now  was  woman- 
ish, to  such  a  degree  as  to  create  a  prejudice  in  advance, 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  125 

in  the  mind  of  one  who  likes  men  to  be  manly,  against 
any  man  who  lingered  there.  It  seemed  unlikely  that  he 
could  be  anything  but  of  the  tame  cat  kind,  a  domestic 
animal  kept  about  the  place  by  the  ladies,  like  their  otlier 
pets,  for  his  usefulness,  or  to  delight  their  eyes,  and  serve 
at  odd  times  as  an  excuse  for  something  to  lavish  their 
love  upon. 

Evangeline,  being  an  only  child  and  not  very  fond  of 
the  tropics,  had  naturally  lived  much  of  her  married  life 
at  home.  Our  old  schoolroom  was  now  her  boudoir.  She 
had  made  it  stuffily  effeminate  in  the  fashionable  man- 
ner, with  tambourines  and  ribbons,  painted  plaques,  and 
things  of  all  kinds  converted  from  their  honest  use  to 
serve  as  ornaments  absurdly — as,  for  instance,  a  salad-oil 
bottle  with  a  pink  ribbon  tied  round  its  neck,  filled  with 
grasses  and  hung  upon  the  wall — dusty  fripperies  !  "  Just 
like  a  beastly  bazaar,"  as  Adalesa  remarked.  "  Don't  I 
know  them,  for  my  sins?  I'm  always  having  to  open 
them.  And  I  always  buy  these  kind  of  things,  and  then 
give  a  children's  party,  so  that  some  one  may  get  some 
pleasure  out  of  them,  if  it's  only  the  pleasure  of  demolish- 
ing them.  I  should  so  like  to  see  Evangeline  the  Second 
throw  billiard  balls  at  that  oil  bottle." 

It  was  the  day  after  our  arrival,  and  we  had  looked  in 
there  for  a  moment  on  our  way  to  the  drawing-room  for 
afternoon  tea.  Tliis  meal  was  quite  a  function  wlien 
Adalesa  was  in  the  house.  People  dropped  in  for  it  from 
all  parts  of  the  county,  and  one  could  see  that  none  of 
them  ever  forgot  that  she  was  a  duchess. 

TVe  found  the  room  full  on  this  occasion,  and  Evange- 
line, very  much  in  her  element,  flitting  about  from  one 


126  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

to  another,  all  little  airs  and  graces,  gesticulating  with 
her  pretty  hands  to  help  her  words  out,  and  altogether 
very  youthful  indeed.  Two  lovely  little  children,  a  boy 
and  a  girl,  dreadfully  over-dressed,  were  brought  in 
presently. 

"  My  babies ! "  she  exclaimed,  fluttering  off  to  meet 
them,  and  then  flopping  down  on  her  knees  and  holding 
out  her  arms,  into  which  the  little  girl  sprang  confidently. 
The  boy  hung  back. 

"  Ah,  this  is  my  child,  this  is  my  darling  ! "  Evange- 
line cried,  covering  the  girl  with  kisses.  "  You  go  away," 
she  said  to  the  other ;  "  you're  not  my  boy  at  all." 

If  this  were  meant  for  playfulness  the  little  fellow 
did  not  see  it,  for  he  shrank  off  sensitively,  and  seemed 
too  preoccupied  to  respond  when  Adalesa  took  him  upon 
her  knee  and  began  to  lavish  attentions  upon  him.  He 
Bat  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  mother  and  sister,  watch- 
ing them  with  a  countenance  so  blank,  one  wondered  at 
it,  but  could  not  understand  it.  I  discovered  afterwards, 
however,  that  he  was  utterly  neglected,  if  not  absolutely 
ill-treated,  by  his  mother,  because  a  dark  drop  that  there 
was  in  his  father's  family  had  come  out  in  him.  Evan- 
geline had  been  sentimental,  as  a  girl,  on  the  subject  of 
Perceval's  "  exquisite  Oriental  eyes,"  but  during  her  so- 
journ in  the  tropics  she  had  acquired  some  further  in- 
formation on  the  subject  of  such  eyes,  and  now  associated 
them  with  other  than  romantic  ideas.  The  little  girl  was 
as  fair  as  herself,  but  abroad  the  boy  had  been  stigmatised 
as  "  coloured."  He  was  a  charming  child,  but  almost 
morbidly  sensitive,  and  one  could  see  that  his  mother's 
continual  jibes,  although  always  delivered  with  an  affecta- 


THE  YELLOW  LEAP.  127 

tion  of  playfulness,  never  failed  to  cut  him  to  the  quick. 
Adalesa  and  I  both  begged  hard  to  bo  p,llowed  to  keep  him. 

"You  can  halve  him  between  you  if  you  like,"  his 
mother  rejoined.     "  I  only  want  my  girl — my  beauty  !  " 

"  You  are  a  brute,  Evangeline  ! "  was  Adalesa's  gentle 
comment. 

*'  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Evangeline  airily,  "  it  is  fortunate 
for  the  family  that  you  became  a  duchess.  In  a  less  ex- 
alted position  people  might  have  tried  you  by  your  lan- 
guage, and  found  you  wanting  in  refinement." 

"  Good,  by  way  of  tu  quoque^^  said  Adalesa  apprecia- 
tively. 

They  had  an  encounter  of  this  kind  almost  every 
time  they  met,  and  it  was  strange  to  find  these  two  mature 
women  jarring  still,  without  ever  quarrelling  exactly,  just 
as  they  used  to  do  in  their  early  girlhood. 

XIII. 

Mrs.  Crowther  was  Evangeline's  bosom  friend  at  this 
time ;  but  they  had  two  other  bosom  friends,  Mr.  Regy 
Vincent  and  Mr.  Paul  Marks,  w^ho  came  continually  to  the 
house  to  pay  them  that  kind  of  court  which  very  young 
men  are  apt  to  lavish  on  dressy  young  women,  a  good  deal 
older  than  themselves,  if  they  are  encouraged ;  and  it  was 
evident  to  me,  so  far  as  Evangeline  was  concerned,  that 
what  she  lived  on  now  was  the  adoration  of  these 

"  Things  whose  place  'tis  over  ladies 

To  lean  and  flirt  and  stare  and  simper, 
Till  all  that  is  divine  in  woman 
Grows  cruel,  courteous,  smooth,  inhuman; 
Cruciiied  'twixt  a  smile  and  a  whimper." 


128  THE   YELLOW  LEAF. 

She  took  either  or  both  about  with  her  impartially,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances,  or  as  they  might  become  avail- 
able for  purposes  of  escort.  She  shared  them  fairly  with 
Mrs.  Crowther,  but  would  show  signs  of  dissatisfaction  if 
they  ventured  to  pay  any  but  the  most  unavoidable  at- 
tention to  other  ladies.  Beyond  these  young  men,  how- 
ever, and  the  constant  care  and  thought  she  bestowed 
upon  her  dress  and  appearance,  she  did  not  seem  to  have 
any  special  interest  in  life.  It  was  a  continual  case  of 
*'  What  shall  we  do  next  ?  "  with  her — an  inveterate  run- 
ning from  one  trivial  amusement  to  another  in  order  to 
pa€s  the  time — to  get  it  over  with  as  little  consciousness 
of  its  flight  as  possible.  The  only  moments  she  really 
lived  were  those  which  brought  her  some  petty  personal 
social  triumph,  emphasised  by  a  tribute  of  admiration  or 
of  envy,  no  matter  which,  since  either  proved  that  she 
was  still  a  success. 

"  One  would  think  it  was  something  glorious  you  were 
hurrying  to  arrive  at,"  Adalesa  said  to  her  one  day,  "  in- 
stead of  old  age,  which  w^ill  be  upon  you  soon  enough,  I 
should  think,  without  going  to  meet  it  half-way  as  you 
do,  seeing  that  you  dread  it  so." 

Mr.  Regy  Vincent  and  Mr.  Paul  Marks  lounged  in 
after  dinner  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival.  They  were 
stiff  and  neglectful  in  their  attentions  to  Lady  Marsh  on 
account  of  her  age,  familiar  with  Evangeline  and  Mrs. 
Crowther,  deferential  to  "  the  duchess,"  and  suspicious  of 
me.  Sir  Henry  they  would  have  treated  as  an  equal  had 
he  not  overlooked  them  altogether. 

"  Awful  fun  at  the  cricket  match  this  afternoon,"  Mr. 
Vincent  remarked  to  the  ceiling.     He  was  sprawling  in 


TUE   YELLOW  LEAF.  129 

an  armchair  beside  Mrs.  Crowther,  with  his  hands  in  his 
trousers  pockets  and  his  legs  spread  out  before  him. 

"  Oh,  did  you  hear  that  girl  ?  "  said  Mr.  Marks,  who 
stood  near  with  an  eyeglass  in  his  right  eye,  looking 
down  on  the  ladies  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  "  I  can't 
remember  exactly  what  she  said,  but  I  know  it  was  awfully 
good.  Some  one  had  been  caught  out,  or  something  of 
that  kind,  don't  you  know,  and  so  she  thought  that  side 
had  lost ! " 

"  Yet  women  want  the  suffrage ! "  Mr.  Vincent  said 
softly  to  the  ceiling. 

Mr.  Marks  very  much  appreciated  this  good  thing; 
and  the  three  ladies  also  smiled,  as  though  to  show  their 
perfect  agreement  with  the  conclusion  that,  because  one 
woman,  not  having  learnt  the  ins  and  out  of  such  an  im- 
portant thing  as  a  game  of  cricket,  makes  a  mistake,  there- 
fore the  pretensions  of  all  women  to  be  considered  reason- 
able beings  are  absurd. 

"  Take  care  !  "  Lady  Marsh  said  to  Mr.  Vincent  play- 
fully. "  That  dear  child  there  " — meaning  Adalesa — 
*'  claims  equality  with  you." 

"  Oh,  for  heaven's  sake — pardon  me,"  Adalesa  cried, 
with  more  than  necessary  emphasis,  after  a  horrified  glance 
at  the  young  man's  sloping  skull — "  not  equality !  I  could 
never  come  to  that  I  " 

Mr.  Vincent  frowned  thoughtfully,  and  even  Mr.  Marks 
seemed  to  think  there  might  be  more  than  he  perceived  in 
this  reply ;  but  Lady  Marsh  smiled  on  serenely.  There 
was  a  little  pause,  however,  and  some  remarks  made  in 
undertones  before  the  chatter  recommenced  ;  then  some- 
body began  about  hands  and  feet. 


130  THE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

"  I  know  who  has  the  smallest  feet  I  ever  saw,"  Mr. 
Vincent  declared,  looking  significantly  at  Evangeline,  who 
assumed  a  simpering  air  of  unconsciousness. 

"  Well,  I  know  whose  feet  are  the  best  shaped,"  Mr. 
Paul  Marks  declared,  with  a  companion  glance  at  Mrs. 
Crowther. 

"  I'll  bet  you  ten  to  one  Mrs.  Perceval  has  the  smallest 
foot  in  the  room,"  Mr.  Vincent  cried. 

"  Done  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Marks.  "  Ladies,  a  slipper 
each,  please,  to  measure." 

"  I  beg  to  be  excused,"  Adalesa  said,  with  dignity. 

*'  How  horrid  of  you  !  "  Evangeline  exclaimed.  "  How 
is  the  bet  to  be  decided  ?  '  It  is  only  fun." 

"  I  fail  to  see  the  fun,"  said  Adalesa. 

Others  were  not  so  fastidious,  however,  and  the  vulgar 
competition  went  on  without  her,  one  inanity  leading  to 
another  until  it  was  time  to  retire. 

"  Isn't  it  delightful  to  see  Evangeline  so  young  and 
fresh  ?  "  Lady  Marsh  whispered  to  me  as  I  wished  her 
good-night.  "  She  is  quite  a  girl.  Every  little  thing 
amuses  her." 

I  smiled  as  well  as  I  could,  thinking  the  while  that  it 
might  have  been  better  had  she  been  less  "  a  girl "  and 
more  fastidious. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  Mr.  Vincent  exclaimed,  "  will  you 
come  out  for  a  row  to-morrow  ?  We  can  carry  four  ladies 
in  the  back  of  the  boat." 

"  Where  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Mr.  Vincent  means  the  stern,"  Adalesa  explained ; 
"  but  he  didn't  think  a  lady  would  understand." 

We  were  leaving  the  room  together  at  the  moment ; 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  131 

and  she  continued  laughingly,  when  we  were  out  of  ear- 
shot, "  I  always  think  it  so  kind  and  considerate  of  those 
dear  boys  to  talk  down  to  our  ladylike  level." 

Adalesa  laughed  ;  then  asked  if  I  felt  sleepy,  because 
she  did  not,  and  proposed  that  we  should  go  to  Evange- 
line's room  and  cackle. 

We  surprised  Evangeline  dabbing  some  cosmetic  on 
her  faded  cheeks. 

"  Don't  you  do  anything  to  your  face  ?  "  she  asked 
Adalesa,  in  a  sort  of  gently  reproachful  tone,  as  if  it  were 
not  honourable  to  neglect  cosmetics. 

"  I  wash  it,"  said  Adalesa. 

Evangeline  had  left  her  husband  in  Brazil,  but  he  was 
expected  home  next  day. 

"  How  delighted  you  will  be  to  see  him !  "  I  said  inno- 
cently. 

Evangeline  failed  in  an  attempt  to  look  so. 

"  You  haven't  seen  him  since  Evangeline  took  him  off 
my  hands  for  his  good,  have  you  ?  "  Adalesa  remarked,  in 
her  flippant  way. 

I  had  been  nervously  toying  with  some  bottles  on  the 
dressing-table  when  she  spoke,  and  now  I  knocked  one 
over. 

"  My  drops  !  "  Evangeline  exclaimed.  "  I  am  obliged 
to  take  something.  The  doctor  prescribed  them  for  my 
nerves  :  I  can't  trust  my  nerves  ;  I  can't  keep  up  without 
something." 

This  was  said  almost  defiantly,  as  if  she  thought  we 
should  object ;  but  Adalesa  recommended  her  to  have 
some  drops. 

"  Judging  by  your  appearance,  I  should  say  you  will 


132  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

never  want  them  more  than  you  do  at  this  moment,"  she 
said. 

When  I  was  alone  with  Adalesa,  I  could  not  help  re- 
marking on  the  change  in  Evangeline. 

"  It  amazes  me,"  I  said. 

"  Do  you  mean  the  change  in  her  appearance  or  in  her 
character  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Or  the  further  development  of 
her  character  rather,  I  should  say,  for  essentially  she  is 
the  same." 

"  Both,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  neither  need,"  she  said  ;  "  for  those  soft,  plump, 
pink-and-white  girls,  who  mature  early,  and  have  no  mus- 
cular training  to  strengthen  and  develop  their  physique, 
go  off  early  as  a  rule ;  and  if  you  will  remember  how  she 
was  taught  to  believe  that  a  woman's  great  aim  in  life  is 
to  be  attractive,  particularly  in  appearance,  to  men,  you 
won't  wonder  that  she  begins  to  be  embittered  by  the  sus- 
picion that  she  is  less  so  than  she  was." 

"  What  is  Perceval  like  now  ?  " 

"  Stoutish — the  last  time  I  saw  him  ;  and  I  expect  by 
now  he  will  have  quite  lost  his  girlish  figure.  But  in  one 
respect  he  has  not  altered.  He  is  still  much  as  he  was 
when  he  thought  he  preferred  Evangeline  to  me — the 
sort  of  man,  that  is  to  say,  who  hasn't  the  brains  to  know 
what  a  fool  he  is." 

XIV. 

It  was  Adalesa,  as  it  happened,  who  welcomed  the 
traveller  back  next  day,  Evangeline  having  gone  out  early, 
with  Mrs.  Crowther  and  the  two  voung  men,  on  some  ex- 


THE   YELLOW  LEAP.  I33 

jiedition,  from  which  she  did  not  return  in  time  to  meet 
her  husband. 

He  looked  to  me  now  a  somewhat  irritable,  elderly, 

.  careworn  man,  more  altered  for  the  worse,  I  thought,  in 
appearance  and  manner  than  she  was  even.  But  he  won 
my  heart  by  his  devotion  to  his  dark  little  boy.  The  way 
the  two  clung  to  each  other  was  significant.  When  the 
father  was  reading  his  paper  in  the  morning,  the  child 
would  steal  in  stealthily,  glancing  about,  as  if  afraid  of 
being  captured  and  ordered  off,  and  would  climb  up  on 
his  father's  knee,  and  nestle  there  happily  so  long  as  he 
was  left  in  peace,  his  father  fondling  him  half-uncon- 
sciously  with  his  disengaged  hand.  And  they  would  talk 
to  each  other,  too,  when  nobody  seemed  to  be  noticing 
them ;  but  if  Evangeline  came  and  caught  them,  she 
would  gently  insist  upon  sending  the  boy  off  to  the 
nursery,  or  out  for  a  walk,  arranging  and  ordering  for 
them  according  to  her  own  mood  of  the  moment,  after 
her  mother's  manner ;  and  neither  he  nor  his  father  ever 
had  the  courage  to  disobey  her. 

These  episodes  were  painfully  significant.  They  made 
one  heartsore  and  sorrowful,  and  all  the  more  so  because 
there  was  such  a  falsification  in  it  all  of  the  unvarying 
sweetness  of  manner  and  womanly  graces  Evangeline  cul- 

,  tivated.  She  was  enough  to  make  one  distrust  all  simj^le- 
seeming,  apparently  amiable  women  ;  and  one  felt  one 
would  rather  have  had  downright  roughness  with  some 
affection,  than  that  silken  selfishness  which  had  spoilt  the 
only  chance  a  man  ever  had  to  become  better  than  his 
natural  self,  was  crushing  his  son,  and  bringing  his 
daughter  up  to  be  detestable. 


134  THE  YELLOW  LEAF. 

One  of  Evangeline's  ideas  was  to  have  a  ball  while  we 
were  all  together,  "  jnst  like  the  one  we  had  when  we 
were  girls,"  she  said,  clapping  her  hands  youthfully.  It 
did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  a  very  happy  idea,  considering 
what  Adalesa  had  suffered  on  that  occasion  ;  but  the  lat- 
ter was  too  healthy  minded,  even  if  she  had  not  been  too 
happily  situated,  to  be  troubled  by  inconvenient  reminis- 
cences. 

Lady  Marsh  aided  and  abetted  Evangeline.  We  should 
arrange  it  all  ourselves,  she  said,  just  as  we  did  before,  in 
the  same  sitting-room,  and  all  be  girls  again.  But,  oh, 
the  pathetic  absurdity  of  the  attempt !  three  married 
women  at  the  meridian  expected  to  ape  themselves  as 
they  were  in  the  morning  of  life.  Only  Evangeline  could 
seriously  think  of  such  a  thing.  She  insisted  that  our 
costumes  for  the  ball  should  be  red,  white,  and  blue  again ; 
and  that  we  should  wear  the  jewels  Sir  HeTiry  had  given 
us  for  the  first  event ;  and  she  sorrowed  because  the  very 
same  dresses  were  not  in  existence  to  be  worn  again. 

"  What  should  we  look  like  !  "  Adalesa  exclaimed,  with 
her  frank  laugh.  She  was  sitting  beside  her  uncle,  and 
now  proceeded  to  make  merry  with  him  over  the  disap- 
pearance of  her  angles,  and  the  apparition  of  a  wrinkle : — 
"  I  was  so  surprised  when  I  first  caught  a  glimpse  of  one 
at  the  corner  of  my  eye,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  there 
was  something  the  matter  with  the  glass.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  me  that  /  should  become  wrinkled." 

Evangeline  was  shocked  at  such  levity.  She  thought 
any  allusion  to  altered  looks  very  bad  taste  ;  and  besides, 
she  was  treating  the  whole  thing  like  a  sacred  function, 
which,  if  solemnly  performed  in  the  right  spirit,  would 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  I35 

rejuvenate  us  all.  "  You  always  had  those  wrinkles,"  she 
said  severely.  "  It  is  the  way  you  laugh.  You  pucker 
up  your  eyes." 

One  of  Evangeline's  wearing  tricks  was  to  exact  a 
lover-like  devotion  from  her  husband  ;  but  only  by  fits 
and  starts,  when  others  failed  or  their  attentions  palled 
upon  her,  or  when  she  suspected  him  of  having  looked 
admiringly  at  some  one  else.  The  poor  man  always  did 
his  best  to  respond  to  these  exactions ;  but  it  was  pitiful 
to  witness  what  the  effort  cost  him,  and  ridiculous  to  see 
him  attach  himself  to  her  train,  and  feign  again  to  be  a 
passionate  young  lover.  At  such  times  he  made  me  think 
of  a  performing  dog  in  a  state  of  trepidation,  doing  his 
best  with  one  eye  on  his  master's  whip,  in  dread  anticipa- 
tion of  what  will  follow  if  he  fails  to  satisfy  him. 

I  was  standing  beside  her  when  the  ball  began. 

"  How  delightful  to  renew  all  the  old  associations  ! " 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  feel  quite  as  excited  as  I  did — then, 
you  know." 

I  could  see,  however,  that  it  was  an  anxious  kind  of 
excitement,  more  painful  than  pleasurable.  This  ball 
was  to  be  decisive  in  some  w^ay.  She  kept  glancing  at 
herself  in  a  mirror  near.  She  had  always  loved  the  good 
points  of  her  own  anatomy;  it  had  been  a  positive  pleas- 
ure to  her  to  consider  them  ;  but  now  there  was  no  23leas- 
ure  in  her  eyes,  only  incessant  inquiry. 

"  I  think  we  look  pretty  much  the  same,"  she  said  at 
last,  airily,  but  tentatively  also. 

"  The  same  considerably  older,"  I  answered,  but  in- 
stantly regretted  the  careless  speech  when  I  saw  its  effect 
upon  her.     She  was  not  so  much  offended  as  frightened, 


136  THE  YELLOW   LEAP. 

I  thought,  and  I  was  glad  to  see  her  husband  approach- 
ing to  make  a  diversion. 

"  We  will  have  the  first  waltz  together  for  old  sake's 
sake,"  he  began,  with  a  kindly  smile. 

"  I  am  engaged  for  it.  You  should  have  come  sooner," 
she  answered  shortly. 

"  Well,  never  mind,  dear,"  he  rejoined.  "  Keep  me 
one  during  the  evening." 

"  If  you  really  care  about  it,  I  think  you  might  par- 
ticularise the  one,"  she  answered. 

He  took  her  programme,  and  looked  at  it  quietly  ;  but 
there  was  no  longer  any  of  the  animation  in  his  face  with 
which  he  had  approached  her.  She  had  banished  the  light 
of  other  days  effectually ;  and  in  its  place  there  reappeared 
the  lines  which  had  been  deeply  graven  there  by  the  fric- 
tion of  such  scenes  as  these. 

Evangeline's  partner  carried  her  off,  and  then  her  hus- 
band turned  to  Adalesa,  who  was  also  standing  by.  I  had 
noticed  that  it  was  always  to  her  he  turned  in  times  of 
trial.  "  You  see  I  never  do  the  right  thing,"  he  said, 
dejectedly. 

"  I  should  have  said  that  you  did  so  just  then,"  she 
answered. 

*^  Ah !  well,  then,"  he  rejoined,  "  I  suppose  I  did  not 
do  it  in  the  right  way." 

He  sighed  as  he  spoke,  and  at  that  moment  Evangeline 
glided  by  with  Mr.  Vincent,  to  whom  she  whispered  and 
simpered  as  they  waltzed. 

There  was  a  bevy  of  girls  at  the  ball,  charming,  fresh, 
merry  girls,  whom  it  was  a  pleasure  just  to  sit  and  watch, 
their  enjoyment  of  everything  was  so  hearty.     It  was  a 


THE  YELLOW  LEAP.  137 

joy  to  us  elder  women  to  have  them  come  and  cosy  up  to 
us  with  frank,  affectionate  confidence,  sure  of  our  sym- 
pathy and  discretion.  There  was  a  double  delight  in  it 
for  us,  the  pleasure  of  entering  into  all  their  feelings,  and 
the  hope  of  being  able  to  help  them  to  realize  some  of 
their  anticipations. 

Adalesa  and  I  busied  ourselves  in  finding  partners  for 
them.  Evangeline  had  fought  against  having  so  many 
girls  asked,  but  we  ultimately  overruled  her  objection.  A 
ball  without  plenty  of  girls  would  be  intolerable.  In  my 
leisure  moments — that  is,  to  say  when  a  dance  was  in 
progress — I  saw  her  several  times  sitting  out ;  and  towards 
the  end  of  the  evening  an  unmistakable  air  of  deep  dissat- 
isfaction settled  upon  her.  She  had  determined  to  dance 
till  daylight,  but  only  her  husband,  Mr.  Vincent  and  Mr. 
Marks  had  asked  her ;  by  all  the  other  men  she  had  been 
overlooked. 

Once  during  the  night  I  saw  her  hurriedly  leave  the 
ball-room  alone,  and  followed  her,  fearing  she  might  be 
ill.  I  found  her  in  her  own  room,  having  recourse  to 
those  fatal  "  drops,"  without  which  she  professed  to  be  so 
seldom  equal  to  anything  now.  They  seemed  to  raise  her 
spirits  for  the  moment ;  but,  later  on,  during  a  dance,  she 
came  to  where  Adalesa  and  I  were  sitting  out  together, 
and  sank  on  to  the  ottoman  beside  us  with  such  a  weary, 
dejected  air  that  I  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  tried  to  think  of 
something  to  say  that  would  solace  her.  The  effort  brouglit 
back  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  day  that  we  were  commem- 
orating. I  recognised  the  very  spot  where  I  had  sat  look- 
ing on  at  the  ball  and  wondering  at  her  conduct;  and 
recalled  with  a  rush  the  yearning  to  peep  into  the  future 


138  THE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

— and  the  jialm.  I  looked  across  to  the  corner  where  it 
had  stood,  and  tliere,  by  a  natural  coincidence,  was  again 
a  palm.  Probably  one  had  been  placed  on  that  same  spot 
for  every  ball  given  in  the  house.  But  this  palm  looked 
so  exactly  like  the  other,  even  to  the  position  of  that  par- 
ticular leaf  on  which  the  light  had  shone  as  it  waved  to 
the  whirl  of  the  dancers,  or  bent,  in  quiet  moments,  above 
those  who  sat  under  it,  that  it  might  have  been  the  same 
plant,  especially  as  time  had  touched  it,  so  that  the  leaf 
was  no  longer  fresh  and  green,  but  dry  and  brown,  with 
frayed  edges  much  in  need  of  the  gardener's  shears. 

I  had  confided  my  fancy  of  long  ago  about  it  to  Ada- 
lesa,  and  now  she  remarked  upon  it. 

" Does  it  speak  of  spirits  still?  "  she  asked. 

"  Alas !  no,"  I  answered.  "  It  has  '  fallen  into  the  sere, 
the  yellow  leaf '  and  is  altogether  prosaic.  I  should  have 
it  cut  off;  it  only  disfigures  the  plant." 

Evangeline  looked  up  at  it  absently ;  then  suddenly 
her  eyes  gleamed. 

"Do  I  look  like  a  horrid,  wizened  old  woman?"  she 
demanded. 

"  No,"  I  answered  sincerely. 

"And  what  would  it  matter  if  one  did?"  Adalesa 
asked. 

"  What  would  it  matter  !  "  she  groaned.  "  It  would 
mean  an  end  of  everything  that  makes  life  endurable." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Adalesa.  "  Every  age  has  its  pleas- 
ures ;  and  how  a  woman  can  care  to  be  a  day  younger  than 
she  is — can  crave  for  the  admiration  paid  to  twenty  when 
she  should  be  enjoying  the  homage  due  to  forty,  I  cannot 
conceive.    The  buds  are  beautiful  in  the  spring,  and  there 


THE   YELLOW  LEAF.  139 

is  beauty  also  in  the  full-blown  foliage  of  summer ;  but 
are  either  more  admirable  in  their  clay  than  the  exquisite 
autumn  leaf  ?  " 

"  But  men  say  such  things  about  old  women,"  Evange- 
line wailed. 

"  Ah — men  ! "  Adalesa  laughed.  "  Well,  my  man  is 
sound  on  the  subject.  But  why  be  for  ever  thinking 
about  men,  Evangeline  ?  Why  don't  you  go  in  for  some- 
thing sensible  now?  Look  at  Mrs.  Crowther!  It  is  for 
men,  I  suppose,  that  she  makes  up  so  abominably.  And 
what  does  she  gain  by  it?  Nothing  but  ridicule;  for  if 
there  is  one  thing  men  despise  more  than  another,  it  is  an 
artificial  woman.     Are  you  ill  ?  " 

This  was  said  with  concern,  on  seeing  Evangeline's 
face  contract,  as  if  with  a  spasm  of  pain. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  she  answered  faintly.  Then,  after 
a  little,  she  exclaimed,  "  But  what  is  there  to  live  for,  if 
you  cease  to  be  attractive  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  we  are  careful,  we  need  never  cease  to  be 
attractive,"  Adalesa  answered  easily,  and  then  abruptly 
changed  the  subject. 

XV. 

When"  the  guests  had  gone,  and  we  had  got  into  our 
dressing-gowns,  Adalesa  came  to  my  room,  and  found  me 
sitting  by  the  open  window  looking  out  at  the  lingering 
night.  She  drew  up  a  chair,  and  sat  beside  me  silently  for 
some  time. 

There  was  no  moon,  and  only  a  few  stars  appeared  low 
down  on  the  horizon  ;  but  still  it  was  possible  to  see  the 
10 


140  THE  YELLOW   LEAF. 

shadowy  outlines  of  trees  and  shrubs;  and  the  scent  of 
summer  flowers  was  wafted  up  to  us,  the  chirrup  of  a  bird 
disturbed,  the  mournful  cry  of  some  creature  far  away — 
bird  of  night  or  beast  in  distress,  it  was  impossible  to  say 
which  at  so  great  a  distance — and  even  the  round  clear  war- 
ble of  a  nightingale  arose  now  and  then,  though  it  was 
late  in  the  season  for  these ;  occasionally,  too,  one  of  the 
dogs  would  set  up  a  dismal  howl,  which  would  arouse  the 
others  in  the  neighbourhood,  one  by  one,  till  a  whole  pack 
had  joined  in  vigorous  chorus,  which  subsided  again  into 
single  barks,  as  it  had  begun,  making  room  for  the  silence 
proper  to  the  hour — that  silence,  never  empty  or  distaste- 
ful to  the  healthy  mind,  which  is  as  an  atmosphere  wrapped 
about  us,  through  which  we  are  conscious  of  the  throbbing 
of  continuous  soft  sounds.  There  came  to  us  now  from 
far  away  the  solemn,  deep-toned  tolling  of  a  bell ;  while 
the  constant  gurgle  and  drip  of  water  near  at  hand  and 
the  voices  of  whispering  leaves  filled  up  every  pause  with 
lingering  crescendo  murmur  and  rustle,  inexpressibly 
soothing. 

"  "What  an  exquisite  hour  !  "  Adalesa  said  at  last  softly ; 
"  a  night  like  that  other  night  long  ago ;  but,  oh,  the  dif- 
ference !  the  like  in  unlikeness  !  I  did  suffer.  And  now 
I  have  everything — by  which  I  mean  that  in  myself  which 

is  everything  ;  while  Evangeline I  do  pity  her  ;  and 

I  am  anxious  about  her  too.  I  never  dreamt  any  sane 
woman  could  be  so  seriously  affected  by  the  suspicion  that 
she  has  gone  off.  She  has  everything  in  the  world  but 
the  charm  of  youth  and  the  tribute  paid  to  it,  and  that,  it 
seems,  is  the  only  thing  she  cares  for." 

"  Oh,  well,  it  is  natural  to  mourn  when  a  sudden  sense 


THE  YELLOW  LEAP.  141 

of  loss  comes  upon  us,"  I  answered  temperately.  "  I 
don't  believe,  until  to-night,  she  ever  even  suspected  that 
she  could  go  off.  It  must  have  been  a  blow  to  find  her- 
self set  aside  all  at  once.  But  let  us  hope  she  is  sleeping 
now,  and  will  awake  with  her  mind  strengthened." 

"  Yes,  let  us  hope  it,"  Adalesa  answered.  "  Let  us 
hope  she  will  reconcile  herself  to  the  loss  of  her  beauty, 
and  begin  to  look  about  for  more  lasting  interests.  And 
let  us  slip  out,  you  and  I,  just  to  mark  the  good  time  we 

are  having,  and  the  great  change let  us  slip  out  and 

sit  on  the  shore,  and  watch  the  sun  rise  over  the  sea. 
Come  and  invoke  '  tender  morning  visions  of  beauteous 
souls,'  and  be  glad.  You  can  be  glad  now  ? "  she  said, 
with  sudden  sympathy,  recollecting. 

"  Oh  yes,"  I  answered  quickly  ;  "  I  enjoy  every  hour 
of  my  life  now." 

"  That's  right.  That  is  how  it  should  be  as  we  get 
older,"  she  replied.  "  Here,  let  me  help  you  into  a  walk- 
ing-dress. Don't  you  appreciate  things  better  now  than 
you  did  ? — at  the  moment,  I  mean.  When  one  is  j'oung, 
one  is  never  so  satisfied.  One  looks  back  and  lives  those 
delights  over  again ;  but  at  the  time  we  did  not  under- 
stand, and  so  lost  the  full  flavour.  Later  one  has  realised 
how  precious  it  is  just  to  be  alive  ;  and  then,  I  think,  it  is 
that  one  begins  to  live." 

We  were  ready  by  this  time,  and,  having  slipped  out 
by  a  side-door,  we  took  our  way  through  the  murmuring 
pine  wood  to  the  beach.  It  was  so  dusky  under  the  trees 
that  we  could  see  no  path  ;  and  now  onr  feet  sank  deep  in 
moss,  and  now  dry  branches  crackled  beneath  them, 
making  what  seemed,  by  contrast,  to  be  a  terrific  noise  in 


1^2  THE   YELLOW  LEAF. 

the  stillness.  In  the  thicker  part  of  the  wood  great 
shadows  rushed  out  upon  and  then  engulfed  us;  and 
filmy  forms  that  hovered  above  the  path  flitted  aside  to 
make  way  for  us ;  while  the  pine-needles  falling  kept  up 
a  continuous  patter,  as  of  lively  little  feet ;  and  the 
fragrant  pine-plumes,  answering  to  a  touch,  bent  above 
us  caressingly. 

Presently^  however,  we  raised  our  heads  again  out  in 
the  open.  It  was  a  very  different  scene.  The  breezy 
sandhills  lay  about  us,  desolate  as  deserted  streets,  which 
they  somewhat  resembled  in  their  irregular  outlines,  by 
that  light — streets  that  the  dust  of  ages  has  settled  upon, 
making  mounds,  beneath  which  all  outward  semblance  of 
human  habitation  is  blotted  out.  The  coarse  grass, 
through  which  the  wind  swished,  and  the  heavy  sand 
hindered  our  feet  as  we  stumbled  on ;  but  presently  we 
came  out  upon  the  beach,  close  beside  the  sea,  for  the  tide 
was  up.  And  there  we  sat  us,  and  together  saw  the 
sapphire  dark  melt  out  of  the  sky,  and  the  first  faint  grey 
streaks  of  dawn  shoot  up  in  the  east,  shaft-like,  from 
horizon  to  zenith,  then  slowly  take  on  a  faint  flush  of 
pink,  scarcely  a  shadow  at  first,  but  growing  momentarily 
deeper,  and  spreading  till  the  whole  east  shone  crimson, 
and  the  sea  responded  to  the  glory  of  it.  Then  the  rim 
of  the  sun  arose  from  the  waters,  and  the  wavelets  wel- 
comed it  with  merry  murmurs  as  they  broke  upon  the 
sandy  shore.  We  saw  in  silence,  there  being  no  word  of 
human  speech  to  express  the  emotions  of  such  a  moment. 
The  sea- voice  sang  in  our  ears ;  we  scented  the  exquisite 
iodine  freshness  of  the  air,  the  joy  of  nature  filled  and  en- 
compassed us.     No  hour  of  earthly  triumph  can  exceed 


THE   YELLOW   LEAF.  I43 

iu  ecstasy  tlie  gladness  of  such  a  time.  The  holy  calm  of 
it  settled  upon  us,  and  when  at  last  >ve  rose  and  returned 
arm  in  arm,  our  souls  were  satisfied,  and  our  hearts  were 
strengthened  as  by  a  solemn  service, 

XVL 

Next  morning,  at  a  late  hour,  I  was  dressing  in  a 
leisurely  manner  for  a  late  breakfast ;  and  as  I  dressed  I 
sang  to  myself,  until  the  saying  "  Sing  before  breakfast 
cry  before  night "  flashed  through  my  mind,  bringing 
with  it  a  hundred  memories  of  happy  mornings  when 
the  songs  would  out  in  spite  of  the  saying.  Now,  how- 
ever, somehow  it  silenced  me,  and  I  was  just  think- 
ing, when  without  warning,  Adalesa  burst  in  upon  me 
and  stood  on  the  threshold  gasping,  with  scared,  white 
face. 

"  Come ! "  she  tried  to  articulate,  but  her  voice  failed 
her. 

I  understood,  however,  and  followed  her  from  the 
room  without  a  word. 

Outside  in  the  corridor  we  encountered  Sir  Henry  and 
Lady  Marsh.  He,  with  a  blank,  stunned  look  on  his  fine 
old  countenance,  was  tenderly  supporting  her  as  he  led 
her  to  her  room.  Poor  old  people,  fast  failing  both  of 
them, — it  was  a  terrible  sight.  She  was  all  dishevelled 
in  appearance,  as  if  she  had  rushed  out  from  her  bed, 
with  white  hair  streaming,  and  the  pleased,  perpetual 
smile  banished  at  last  and  for  ever  from  her  distorted 
features.  When  slie  saw  us  she  sent  up  a  shriek,  like  one 
distraught. 


144  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

"  Wliat  horror  has  happened  ?  "  I  tried  to  say,  but  my 
Yoice  was  strangled  in  my  throat. 

Adalesa,  clasping  her  hand  round  my  arm,  hurried  me 
on  to  Evangeline's  room.  The  door  was  open,  and  several 
servants,  with  awestruck  countenances,  stood  outside 
craning  their  necks  to  peep  in  over  each  other's  heads  and 
satisfy  their  curiosity.  As  we  approached  they  silently 
made  way  for  us,  and  we  entered.  The  blinds  were  up, 
and  the  summer  sun  exposed  the  scene,  touching  with 
tawdriness  what  the  moon  would  have  enriched,  and  mak- 
ing merely  revolting  that  which  night  would  have  divested 
of  all  but  romantic  interest.  Was  it  only  a  few  hours 
since  we  had  seen  that  same  sun  rise  resplendent,  and  felt 
we  could  cling  to  every  hour  of  life  only  to  see  and  salute 
him  again  and  again?  We  had  flattered  ourselves  then 
that  Evangeline  was  sleeping  oS  her  childish  pique ;  and 
now,  at  the  first  glance,  she  seemed  to  be  sleej^ing ;  but  at 
the  second  we  stood  transfixed,  seeing  but  not  believing, 
knowing  but  not  acknowledging. 

There  was  a  large  luxurious  couch  near  the  window ; 
and  there,  still  in  her  ball  dress  and  her  jewels,  lit  by  the 
full  blaze  of  day,  she  lay  prone,  with  eyes  half-shut  and 
lips  drawn  back  in  a  dreadful  grin.  She  had  many  more 
jewels  on  than  she  had  worn  at  the  ball  the  night  before ; 
and  I  was  seized  with  the  horrid  suspicion  that  the  ball 
dress  had  been  kept  on  for  effect,  and  the  extra  diamonds 
added  to  complete  the  picture.  But  oh !  if  she  could 
have  seen  the  effect !  I  wish — I  wish  /never  had,  for  I  can- 
not forget  it.  Patches  of  rouge  stood  out  on  her  sallow, 
shrunken  cheeks,  making  her  whole  face  look  like  old  ill- 
coloured  wax,  the  rigidity  being  further  emphasised  by  a 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  145 

fly,  which  buzzed  about,  lighting  now  liere,  now  tliere, 
with  impunity.  It  was  horrible  not  even  to  expect  her  to 
feel  it,  and  flip  it  away. 

Her  husband  stood  beside  her;  looking  down  at  her, 
but  there  was  neither  love  nor  grief  in  his  face — only  a 
kind  of  wonder  mingled  with  repulsion.  It  is  dreadful  to 
see  death  and  not  weep ;  but  all  who  stood  by,  her  lovers 
and  her  friends,  were  dry-eyed ;  and  the  fact  that  there 
was  not  one  tearful  face  to  relieve  the  tension  with  a 
touch  of  pathos  made  the  tragedy  more  hideous. 

Mr.  Regy  Vincent  outside  said  audibly  to  Mrs.  Crow- 
ther :  "  She  looks  too  horrid  ;  you  mustn't  go  in." 

Could  she  have  heard  him,  had  she  had  imagination 
enough  even  to  have  anticipated  such  a  thing,  she  might 
have  been  saved ! 

Suddenly  a  child  set  up  a  shrill  cry.  It  was  her  little 
boy,  who  had  slipped  in  unnoticed,  and  now  clung,  shriek- 
ing and  terrified,  to  his  father.  A  servant,  shrinking 
from  the  task,  hastily  tore  the  coverlet  from  the  bed  ;  and, 
with  lips  compressed,  as  if  nerving  herself,  covered  the 
couch  and  its  ghastly  burden,  and  then,  snatching  up  the 
child,  hurriedly  made  her  escape. 

Outside,  Mrs.  Crowther  was  asking  Mr.  Vincent  if 
there  would  be  an  inquest. 

"  Oh  yes !  and  we  shall  be  asked  to  give  evidence,"  he 
answered. 

"  What — me  9  "  she  cried.  *'  How  horrid  !  I  was 
never  mixed  up  in  anything  so  dreadful  in  my  life.  Can't 
I  get  away?" 

"  Well,  Fm  going,"  he  rejoined  ;  "  I'll  see  you  safely 
to  town  if  you  like." 


146  THE   YELLOW   LEAF. 

Now  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  dim 
suggestion  of  a  figure  beneath  the  coverlet,  we  were  able 
to  speak  to  each  other. 

Perceval  was  the  first  to  find  words. 

"  Slie  seemed  dreadfully  depressed  after  the  ball,"  lie 
whispered.  "  I  could  not  understand  why  exactly.  She 
said  several  times  she  had  nothing  left  to  live  for.  Then 
she  begged  me  to  leave  her  for  the  night.  She  wanted  to 
be  alone.  She  said  she  thought  she  should  sleep  if  I  left 
her  alone.  So  I  went  into  the  next  room,  and  was  soon 
asleep  myself,  never  dreaming " 

He  looked  absently  at  a  little  bottle  he  held  in  his 
hand,  and  muttered  something  about  a  dangerous  medi- 
cine. 

Adalesa  slipped  her  hand  through  my  arm,  and  whis- 
pering "  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  led  me  away  to  her 
room.  "  Look,"  she  said,  drawing  a  paper  from  her 
pocket  when  she  had  shut  the  door  and  looked  round  care- 
fully to  make  sure  that  we  were  alone,  "  I  found  this,  but 
no  one  else  has  seen  it.  It  is  not  addressed  to  any  one, 
and  there  is  no  signature,  you  see.  What  shall  I  do  with 
it  ?  She  had  it  in  her  hand.  I  was  the  first  to  find  her. 
I  went  in  early,  because  I  was  anxious.  I  thought  I  could 
cheer  her.  She  seemed  to  be  holding  it  out  to  me,  as  I 
entered ;  and  I  took  it,  and  kissed  her,  and  asked  her 
pardon  if  I  had  hurt  her — before  I  saw.  I  ran  in,  you 
know,  and  floj^ped  down  on  my  knees  beside  her,  giving 
myself  no  time  either  to  see  or  think ;  so  that  it  did  not 
strike  me  as  strange  that  she  should  be  lying  there  in  her 
ball  dress  and  jewels,  with  the  sun  streaming  in  upon  her. 
It  was  the  cold  of  her  cheek " 


THE  YELLOW  LEAF.  I47 

She  finished  by  crushing  the  crumpled  sheet  into  my 
hand  with  a  shudder;  and  I  shuddered  too,  as  I  opened 
it.  One  does  not  shrink  from  anything  that  the  honoured 
dead  have  touched :  but  this  was  different — this  firmlv 
written,  cool,  cynical,  heartless  expression  of  a  selfish 
determination. 

When  I  had  read  it  I  looked  at  Adalesa,  and  made  as 
if  I  would  have  torn  it  up. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said  eagerly ;  "  or  burn  it — for  the 
sake  of  an  honoured  name — for  the  old  people — for  the 
children's  sake — burn  it.  Ko  one  need  ever  know. 
Thank  Heaven  we  were  here  !  " 

Accordingly,  a  large  and  sorrowing  circle  of  shocked 
and  sympathetic  friends  were  informed  eventually  by  the 
verdict  that  the  sad  occurrence  had  been  the  result  of 
misadventure,  in  the  shape  of  an  overdose  of  morphia 
"  taken  to  relieve  pain." 


JANEY,  A  HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR. 

How  it  happened  that  Janey  could  ever  have  lived 
and  not  been  in  Dickens,  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  it  was 
that  the  master  was  cut  off  prematurely  before  he  came  to 
her.  The  nearest  approach  in  his  works  to  the  type  is 
"  Miss  Jenny  Wren,"  the  dolls'  dressmaker ;  but  that 
small  creature  was  mainly  fantastical,  whereas  our  Janey 
could  under  no  circumstances  have  been  anything  but 
dignified,  so  simple  were  her  manners,  so  direct  her  speech, 
so  great  her  intelligence,  so  clear  her  judgment,  and  so  ex- 
emplary her  patient  fortitude  under  circumstances  of  pe- 
culiar trial.  She  was  one  of  the  best  specimens  I  ever 
met  of  that  highly  complex  creature,  "a  true  gentle- 
woman " ;  a  being  compounded  of  courage  and  timidity, 
strength  and  weakness,  sense,  delicacy,  refinement,  pene- 
tration, taste,  tact,  and  a  few  foibles — though  the  latter 
were  not  innate  in  Janey's  case,  I  should  say,  but  rather 
an  accretion  sown  by  circumstances,  an  outcome  of  the 
influence  of  such  externals  as  of  necessity  surrounded  her 
unusual  position,  and  of  the  close  contact  with  a  number 
of  very  diverse  people  which  it  entailed. 

But  although  I  maintain  that  Janey  was  a  gentlewom- 
an, it  would  be  misleading  to  call  her  a  lady.  Gentle- 
woman in  our  day  is  a  title  which  must  be  won  by  esti- 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  I49 

mable  qualities ;  a  lady  may  be  any  kind  of  a  character,  the 
term  merely  referring  to  position  and  means — those  fine 
feathers  which  cover  many  contemptible  birds.  Janey's 
position  was  low  in  the  social  scale — she  had  been  a 
kitchen-maid  ;  and  her  pedigree  was  certainly  not  exalted. 
It  is,  however,  valuable  in  its  significance  to  the  student 
of  human  nature  as  showing  from  whence  she  possibly 
derived  her  own  good  qualities.  Her  father's  family  were 
mostly  tenant  farmers  in  a  small  way,  or  market  garden- 
ers, and  had  been  so  for  generations,  the  girls  having  gone 
into  service  when  they  did  not  marry  and  were  not  want- 
ed at  home.  On  her  mother's  side  she  was  the  descend- 
ant of  a  respectable  line  of  gentlemen's  servants,  a  race 
whose  daily  bread  depended  upon  their  moral  worth.  Her 
grandmother  had  been  a  housekeeper,  grandfather  stud- 
groom,  great  grandmother  lady's-maid,  great  grandfather 
butler,  and  so  on,  all  people  on  whose  competence  and 
honesty  their  employers  had  to  rely  for  their  comfort  and 
safety  in  life.  And  it  would  appear  as  if  her  ancestors  on 
that  side  had  been  a  kind  of  imitative  insect  also,  taking 
on  the  colour  and  characteristics  of  their  surroundings, 
both  of  which  had  culminated  in  Janey  to  such  perfection 
that,  had  she  been  placed  early  enough  among  the  nobility 
and  gentry  to  acquire  for  herself  the  one  thing  wanting  to 
her,  their  trick  of  speech,  she  could  not  have  been  distin- 
guished from  one  of  that  order.  Her  father  and  mother 
had  both  struck  out  in  a  new  direction  for  themselves. 
The  father  had  gone  into  the  service  of  a  railway  com- 
pany, which  employed  him  to  drive  a  lorry  and  deliver 
goods ;  while  the  mother  had  been  a  straw-plaiter  by  trade 
up  to  the  time  of  her  marriage,  doing  the  work  at  home. 


150  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

I  made  Janey's  acquaintance  through  our  good  vicar, 
to  wliom  I  had  applied  for  work  to  vary  the  stultifying 
monotony  of  my  elegant  leisure. 

"  What  would  you  like  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 
•     *'  Something  for  somebod}^"  I  answered. 

"  There  is  district  visiting,"  he  suggested  dubiously. 

"  No,  certainly  not,"  I  answered  without  hesitation. 
"  You  must  let  me  go  where  I  am  sure  to  be  welcome?" 

"  As  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  sick  poor,  you  know.  There  must  surely 
be  something  to  be  done  for  them." 

He  considered  a  moment.  "  There  is  Janey,"  he  began 
meditatively — "  and  indeed  her  whole  family  for  the  matter 
of  that !  The  father  is  suffering  from  some  brain  disease, 
brought  on  by  debauch ;  the  mother  is  worn  out  by  the 
reckless  production  of  too  large  a  family  ;  and  Janey  her- 
self is  paralysed  from  the  waist  down.  I  shall  pass  them 
on  my  way  back,  and,"  he  added  in  his  slow  way,  "  I  was 
thinking  of  going  in." 

"  Please  decide  to  do  so  then,  and  take  me  wdth  you," 
I  exclaimed. 

We  stopped  at  a  row  of  squalid  cottages — not  country 
cottages,  but  the  dreary  town  variety,  two-storied,  ugly, 
dingy,  depressing,  swarming  with  human  beings,  the 
children  overflowing  into  the  street  and  crowding  the 
curb,  multitudinous,  restless,  and  repulsive  on  the  first 
glance  in  their  dirt  and  movements  as  maggots  on  meat ; 
but  proving  on  closer  inspection  to  be  handsome,  sturd}^ 
and  delicate  of  skin,  the  strong  survivals  of  a  race  from 
which  the  weakly  weeds  were  subtracted  between  the 
ages  of  one  and  eleven  by  the  rough  exigencies  of  their 


JANEY,  A  IlUiMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  151 

existence,  as  the  little  headstones  in  the  cemetery  showed, 
only  the  hardier  plants  being  left  to  flourish.  In  front  of 
the  cottages  was  a  broad  main  thoroughfare,  the  houses 
on  the  opposite  side  being  those  of  well-to-do  artisans ;  at 
the  back  were  the  great  iron  works  where  hundreds  of  men 
toiled  day  and  night,  "  six  hours  on  and  six  hours  off,"  in- 
cessantly. Eighteen  big  chimneys  towered  above  Janey's 
tiny  abode,  monsters  whose  black  breath  ♦begrimed  the 
country  for  miles  around,  and  compared  with  which  the 
human  being  is  as  insignificant  as  the  coral  insect  is  to 
the  atoll.  There  was  a  small  pretence  of  garden  ground 
in  front  of  the  cottages,  tiny  strips  of  clay  beaten  hard  by 
the  children's  feet  as  a  rule,  and  with  scarcely  a  green 
blade  growing  in  any  of  them.  These  were  divided  from 
each  other  and  from  the  footpath  by  iron  railings,  and 
little  gates  upon  which  the  children  swung.  The  vicar 
stopped  at  one  of  these,  and  entering  went  up  to  the  cot- 
tage door,  which  was  ajar.  This  he  pushed  open,  then 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  front  room  on  the  ground  floor. 

"  Please  come  in,  sir,"  was  the  gentle  response.  "  I 
know  who  it  is  by  your  step,  sir.  I  knows  'em  all  now 
pretty  nearly." 

The  vicar  looked  in.  "  How  are  you  to-day,  Janey  ?  " 
I  heard  him  say.     "  I  have  brought  a  lady  to  see  you." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  sir,"  was  the  soft  response,  and 
then  the  vicar  stood  aside  to  let  me  pass. 

On  my  right,  behind  the  door  as  I  entered,  was  a  small 
iron  bed,  upon  which  a  young  girl  lay  on  her  back,  wdth 
her  head  slightly  raised.  Her  thick,  short,  dark  hair  was 
loose  on  the  pillow.  She  looked  at  me  gravely  as  I  ap- 
proached her,  but  a  pleased  expression  came  into  her  large 


152  JANEY,  A  HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR. 

luminous  eyes  when  we  had  shaken  hands.  There  was  a 
striking  peculiarity  about  her  eyes.  The  iris,  which  was 
the  grey  of  chinchilla  in  colour,  had  an  outer  edge  of 
black. 

"  Sit  down,  miss,  please,"  she  said.  "  Would  you 
kindly  give  the  young  lady  a  chair,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  young  lady  is  a  married  lady,"  the  vicar  informed 
her,  smiling,  as  he  complied  with  her  request. 

Janey  looked  at  me  solemnly,  as  if  she  thought  it  a 
pity,  or  was  making  an  effort  to  alter  her  first  impres- 
sion. 

"  Have  you  been  ill  long  ?  "  I  asked,  when  the  vicar 
had  left  us. 

"  Two  years,"  she  answered,  raising  her  hands  to  catch 
hold  of  a  round  ruler-like  stick  which  hung  suspended 
above  her  by  a  rope  from  the  ceiling,  forming  a  handle 
within  easy  reach,  by  grasping  which  she  was  enabled  to 
alter  her  position  a  little.  "  Me  arms  and  'ead  is  all  I  can 
move,"  she  explained  ;  "  but  it's  a  mercy  I've  got  the  use 
o'  them." 

She  spoke  in  the  mellow  north-country  manner,  smooth- 
ing the  rugged  aspirates  out  as  it  were,  so  that  in  the  soft- 
ened effect  of  her  phrases  their  absence  did  not  strike  un- 
pleasantly. 

The  head  of  her  bed  just  fitted  into  a  space  beside  the 
window,  and,  her  back  being  turned  to  the  light,  she  had 
nothing  to  look  at  but  the  opposite  wall,  from  which  the 
dingy  paper,  unrelieved  by  any  picture,  was  dropping. 
Fancy,  for  two  years  lying  looking  at  that !  was  my  mental 
ejaculation. 

"  I'm  most  tired  o'  countin'  the  squares  on  it,"  Janey 


JANEY,  A  HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  153 

cheerfully  observed,  as  if  she  had  divined  my  thoughts 
when  I  turned  round  to  look  at  it. 

Iler  face  contracted  with  pain  after  she  had  spoken, 
and  she  caught  at  her  knee  with  one  hand.  "  It's  me 
legs,"  she  explained  ;  "  they're  all  drowered  up,  and  they 
do  twitch.  When  I  cam'  out  o'  'ospital  the  doctor  'e  tol' 
mother  to  keep  'em  stretched  out  an'  not  on  no  account  to 
let  'em  drower  up ;  but  mother  she  'ad  nobbut  this  little 
bed  for  me,  an'  it  'as  to  be  too  short  because  o'  the  door, 
which  wouldn't  open  with  it  any  longer,  so  they  had  to 
drower  up.     It  was  to  be,  you  see." 

''  Why,  you  must  be  tall !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  I  thought 
you  were  quite  a  little  body." 

Janey  smiled.  "  Eh,  but  I'm  bigger  nor  you  are,  four 
inches,  I  should  think." 

This  would  make  her  between  five  feet  eight  and  nine, 
and  the  bed  could  not  have  been  more  than  five  feet 
long. 

"  What  did  they  do  for  you  in  the  hospital  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  they  brought  amany  doctors  to  see  me,"  she  an- 
swered, "  'an  they  put  weights  on  me  legs,  to  keep  'em 
straight.  My  !  they  did  'urt !  But  I  was  gettin'  on  well 
enough,  until  one  night  when  there  was  a  great  storm,  and 
me  bed  was  under  a  window,  an'  it  blowed  in,  an'  I  called 
an'  called,  but  the  nurses  didn't  come  an'  I  couldn't  move 
meself,  nor  not  another  in  the  ward  could  move  me,  for 
we  was  all  on  us  'elpless.  An'  the  rain  blew  in  on  me  all 
night,  an'  no  nurse  cam'  till  seven  nex'  mornin',  an'  then 
one  come  for  something,  an'  I  ses  to  'er,  '  0  nurse,  it's  bin 
rainin'  on  me,  an'  I'm  all  cold  an'  wet.'  '  You  just  wait 
till  your  betters  'as  breakfasted,'  she  ses,  an'  off  she  goes. 


154  JANEY,  A  HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR. 

an'  it  was  'alf  past  eight  an'  more  before  she  corned  to 
move  me,  an'  me  teeth  chatterin'  that  'ard  you  could  'ear 
'em.  An'  one  of  the  women  in  the  ward,  she  said  it  was 
sliameful  neglec',  an'  she'd  tell  the  doctor,  an'  the  nurse 
said,  threatenin'  like,  '  You'd  better  ! '  But  she  did,  an' 
0  my,  'e  did  go  on  at  that  nurse  awful !  He  icas  vexed ! 
An'  she  did  treat  that  poor  woman  cruel  afterwards. 
She'd  do  nothin'  for  'er.  I've  'eard  'er  call  an'  call  an' 
call,  for  she  was  'elpless  too,  an'  nurse  'ud  come  back  an' 
look  at  'er  an'  laugh,  and  she  in  that  pain  ;  an'  the  nurse 
would  say,  '  You'll  tell  tales  o'  me  again,  will  you  ? '  They 
isn't  lady  nurses  they  'as  'ere,  you  know,  m'am,"  Janey 
broke  off  to  explain  tolerantly.  "  They's  just  common 
ignorant  servants,  an'  when  they  gets  called  nurse,  an'  the 
doctors  speaks  to  'em  confidential  like,  it  seems  to  turn 
their  'eads,  an'  they  don't  know  'ow  nasty  to  be.  There's 
gentlemen  comes  round  every  week  to  ask  if  we  'aven't  no 
complaints,  an'  we  said  as  we'd  tell  'em,  but  we  was  timid 
of  'em  ;  and  there  was  one  woman  who'd  bin  there  afore 
said  it  wasn't  no  use  neither,  because  it  'ad  bin  doue  in  'er 
time,  an'  the  patient  wot  complained  got  the  wost  of  it, 
because  the  nurses  all  swore  she  was  a  untruthful,  trouble- 
some person,  an'  the  other  patients  i'  the  ward  was  afraid 
to  contradict  'em  for  fear  they'd  use  'em  awful  after- 
wards." 

"  And  did  it  do  you  no  harm,  that  wetting  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  in  a  casual  way ;  "  I  had 
rheumatic  fever  an'  inflammation  of  the  lungs,  an'  it 
seemed  as  if  there  wasn't  much  to  be  done  for  me  after- 
wards, for  the  doctor  sent  me  'ome,  an'  on'y  tol'  mother 
to  keep  me  legs  straight." 


JANEY,  A  HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  155 

"  And  while  you  were  so  ill  were  the  nurses  good  to 
you?" 

"  Well,  you  see,"  she  answered  temperately, "  they  'ad n't 
much  to  do  for  me,  for  mother  she  used  to  slip  in  reg'lar 
an'  make  me  comfortable  'erself,  an'  the  nurses  they'd 
wink  at  'er  comin'  cos  it  saved  'em  a  deal  o'  trouble." 

This  happened  in  the  confident  days  of  my  youth, 
when  I  was  still  under  the  delusion  that  wrongs  would 
be  righted  directly  if  those  in  authority  were  informed 
of  the  fact ;  and  when  I  left  Janey  that  afternoon  I  has- 
tened to  see  an  old  lady  whose  husband  was  one  of  the 
gentlemen  visitors  to  the  hospital,  and  who  was  herself 
much  interested  in  the  institution.  They  were  both  by 
way  of  being  kind  and  charitable,  and  were  also  people 
of  position  who  could  have  instituted  searching  enquiries 
into  the  truth  of  Janey's  statements,  but  to  my  conster- 
nation when  I  told  her  story,  the  old  lady  answered  in  a 
tone  which  showed  that  she  resented  my  interference  : — 
"  Oh,  these  people  are  never  satisfied !  They  are  always 
complaining  of  something.  You  should  know  better  than 
to  listen  to  them.  We  both  visit  the  hospital  regularly 
and  have  never  yet  seen  anything  wrong." 

As  Janey  finished  speaking,  the  door  behind  me 
opened,  and  some  one  entered  with  a  slouching  step. 

"  It's  on'y  father,"  Janey  explained. 

I  turned  to  speak  to  him,  and  he  came  up  to  me  with 
an  imbecile  smile,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  For  shame,  father  ! "  Janey  exclaimed  as  if  she  were 

chiding  a  child;    "you  did  oughter  know  better  nor  to 

offer  yer  'and  to  a  lady.     Touch  yer  'ead  now,  an'  be'ave, 

else  go  away." 
11 


156  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

Fatlier  went  away. 

"  You  must  acscuse  'im,  m'am,"  Janey  proceeded ; 
"  'e's  got  the  softenin'  of  the  brain,  an'  knows  no  more 
nor  a  child,  an'  'e's  very  troublesome  at  times;  it  takes 
me  all  I  can  do  to  mind  'im.  The  neighbours  says  whv 
don't  we  put  'im  away,*  but  mother  she  say  no,  'e  'ave 
bin  a  good  'usband  to  'er,  an'  please  God  she'll  do  for  'im 
as  long  as  she  can  do  for  'im,  us  'elpin'  'er,  an'  'e'll  not  be 
put  away  afore  'e  goes  to  'is  long  'ome.  Ah  !  "  she  burst 
out  on  hearing  the  slouching  steps  returning,  "  would  you 
now?  You'll  not  come  in  an'  sit  down  an'  a  lady  'ere, 
you  know ;  you  just  go  an'  take  a  walk.  See  !  there's  the 
sun  out.  Make  your  bow  an'  be  off  wi'  you,  an'  you  shall 
'ave  summat  good  to  eat." 

Father  raised  the  tips  of  his  fingers  to  his  forehead, 
and  slouched  off  again  obediently — out  of  the  house  this 
time,  for  I  saw  him  pass  the  window  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  distant  prospect  of  that  "  summat  good  to  eat,"  I  judged 
by  the  idiotic  smile  which  had  remained  on  his  lips  since 
the  bribe  was  held  out  to  him.  "  Bless  you,  'e  knows 
ev'ry  word  I  ses  to  'im,"  Janey  proudly  declared,  grasp- 
ing the  handle  which  hung  from  the  ceiling  and  altering 
her  position  uneasily.  "  It's  me  legs  again,"  she  ex- 
plained ;  "  they  do  pain  wi'  them  twitches.  Look  at  'em ! 
I  can  do  nothin'  wi'  'em." 

A  series  of  jerks  here  under  the  bed-clothes  testified 
to  the  troublesome  twitches. 


*  The  poor  here  never  use  the  word  asylum  if  they  can  help  it ; 
the  insane  are  said  to  be  "  put  away,"  like  precious  things,  "  to  be 
taken  care  of." 


JANEY,  A   nUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  I57 

"You  can't  control  them,  then?"  I  inquired. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  can't  do  notliin'  wi'  'em,"  she  repeated. 
"I  can't  move  'em  at  all,  /can't.  It  do  seem  wonder- 
ful, don't  it,  'ow  they  can  go  o'  themselves  ?  " 

Here  her  mother  entered,  a  stout  woman  who  would 
still  have  been  comely  but  for  the  deep  lines  which  the 
"  reckless  production "  of  her  large  family  had  worn 
upon  her  face,  marking  it  with  a  permanent  expression 
of  exhaustion. 

She  apologised  querulously  for  disturbing  me,  but 
would  I  "  acscuse "  her  if  she  spoke  to  Janey,  because 
"  the  baker  'ad  come  an'  she  didn't  know  about  the 
bread,  there  bein'  nobbut  a  'eel  left  in  the  jar,  them  boys 
ate  so  much." 

"  Well,  I  got  three  yeste'day,"  Janey  said,  pulling  a 
little  purse  out  from  under  her  pillow,  "  an'  two  to-day's 
as  much  as  you  can  'ave,  let  who  will  do  wi'out."  She 
handed  her  mother  some  coppers  as  she  spoke,  and  the 
latter,  after  curtsying  to  me,  meekly  withdrew. 

"  There's  a  deal  to  think  of  i'  a  'ouse  like  this," 
Janey  remarked.  "  Father  gets  twelve  shillin's  a  week 
from  the  club,  an'  the  railway  allows  'im  another  six, 
that's  eighteen,  and  two  o'  the  boys  bring  in  four  a  week 
each,  that's  eight,  an'  eighteen — two  eights  six — twenty- 
six,  an'  eight  for  rent  out  0'  that,  and  then  there's  clo's, 
not  to  mention  boots,  and  the  children  do  wear  out 
aman}^,  you'd  be  surprised,  specially  the  boys.  They're 
thro'  'em  i'  no  time,  an'  repairs  comes  'eavy.  It  takes 
me  all  my  time  lyin'  'ere  to  think  an  contrive  for  'em,  for 
mother  she  can't  be  axspected  to  do  much.  She  gets  the 
boys'  breakfasts  at  five  i'  the  mornin',  an'  keeps  about 


158  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR. 

a  bit,  washin'  up  an'  cleanin',  an'  doing  odds  an'  ends, 
but  by  the  time  she's  dressed  me  an'  father,  she's  about 
done  'erself,  an'  'as  to  lie  down  till  tea,  an'  as  to  thinkin', 
it  can't  be  axspected  of  'er  wi'  father  that  'elpless,  an' 
that  troublesome  at  times,  an'  all,  you  wouldn't  believe ! 
'E  won't  stay  in,  an'  'e  won't  go  out,  nor  do  nothin',  an' 
'e  can't  talk  much,  you  know,  to  tell  you  what's  the  mat- 
ter. Are  you  going,  m'am?  Well,  thank  you  kindly  for 
the  visit.  An'  p'raps  you'll  come  again.  I'd  be  glad  to 
see  you.  There  was  amany  corned  at  first,  ladies  an'  all, 
but  now  I  scarcely  sees  a  one,  an'  it  do  seem  to  do  a  body 
good  like,  you  know,  to  see  company.  You  don't  get 
tired  o'  your  own  folks,  but  you  want  a  change.  It's 
like  breathin' ;  you  go  on  doin'  of  it  whatever  the  air  is, 
but  when  the  winder's  bin  shut  a  long  time  an'  someone 
comes  an'  opens  it,  my  !  " — she  drew  a  deep  breath — "  it's 
like  new  life,  the  freshness  is." 

After  this  first  visit,  I  made  it  a  rule  to  go  and  see 
Janey  regularly  every  Monday  afternoon,  an  arrangement 
of  which  she  highly  approved.  "  It  gives  you  something 
to  look  forward  to  like,"  she  said,  by  which  ambiguous 
expression  she  meant  humbly  to  allude  to  her  own  feel- 
ings in  the  matter.  But,  indeed,  I  very  soon  learnt  to 
look  forward  myself  to  the  time  I  should  spend  with 
Janey,  listening  to  her  simple  talk,  and  taken  out  of  my 
own  narrow  groove  by  the  largeness  of  nature  which 
found  an  interest  and  had  some  sympathy  for  every  phase 
of  human  being.  It  was  Janey  who  taught  me  to  per- 
ceive that  there  is  no  distinction  of  great  or  small  in  the 
value  of  the  details  of  such  daily  life  as  we  discussed. 
The  placing  of  the  sons  of  a  gentleman  in  professions  may 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR.  I59 

seem  at  a  glance  to  be  a  more  important  matter  than  the 
finding  of  work  for  such  small  fry  as  Janey's  brothers ; 
but  as  an  evidence  of  human  worth,  when  you  come  to 
compare  the  resources  of  the  one  with  the  poverty  of  the 
other,  the  position  of  the  gentleman  with  that  of  the 
paralysed  girl  who,  doubled  up  with  pain  on  her  short 
bed,  thought  and  arranged  and  "  fended  "  for  her  whole 
family,  all  the  wonder  and  respect  was  for  the  latter,  as  it 
is  for  the  skilful  if  less  perfect  work  of  a  man  as  distin- 
guished from  the  mechanical  exactness  produced  without 
thought  by  machines. 

My  fellow  sheep  in  society,  all  crowding  one  after  the 
other  to  get  through  the  fashionable  gap  of  the  moment 
together,  would  have  stared  as  at  an  imbecility  had  they 
heard  it  asserted  that  mine  was  the  petty  existence  with 
its  dinners,  dances,  dresses,  and  all  the  stultifying  round 
of  accustomed  inanities,  and  Janey's  was  the  larger  life ; 
but  that  was  the  fact.  Janey  was  the  human  being, 
purposeful  and  versatile ;  I  was  the  society  machine,  doing 
just  what  was  expected  of  me  exactly  as  the  other 
machines  did,  without  happiness  and  without  heart  in  it. 
I  knew  this  from  the  difference  between  Janey's  effect  on 
me  and  that  of  the  other  machines.  The  latter  had  the 
power  of  expressing  the  correctest  sentiments  on  all 
occasions,  and  I  could  reply  in  like  manner,  each  being 
the  better  perhaps  for  the  exercise  of  politeness,  but 
neither  touching  the  other  because  neither  felt.  Now 
with  Janey  it  was  just  the  opposite.  Her  powers  of  ex- 
pression were  chiefly  facial :  the  look  in  her  large  grey 
eyes,  tlie  slight  smile  or  compression  of  her  lips,  the  nod 
of  her  wise  head  indicated  depths  of  feeling  not  to  be 


IGO  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

plumbed  ;  and  witliout  words,  solely  by  force  of  feeling, 
she  made  me  recognise  in  her  a  very  loving  loyal  friend, 
and  one  who  more  than  any  lived  in  my  interests  most 
sincerely.  The  story  of  my  life  from  week  to  week  was 
of  vital  importance  to  her.  She  drew  forth  by  dint  of 
sympathy  confessions  and  confidences  no  other  woman 
could  have  wrung  from  me,  and  on  many  a  weary  day, 
sitting  beside  her  little  bed,  I  have  felt  my  sorely  con- 
tracted heart  expand,  and  the  hard  burden  of  my  own 
coldness  melt  in  the  warmth  that  came  glowing  with  the 
return  of  the  power  to  care— to  love. 

I  was  also  indebted  to  Janey  for  many  a  valuable  hint 
on  the  management  of  my  household.  She  had  made  the 
most  of  her  time  in  service,  and  observed  just  where  the 
mistress  was  in  fault  as  well  as  the  maids ;  but  she  dealt 
impartially  with  both  of  us. 

At  first  I  used  to  shrink  from  telling  her  of  walks  and 
rides  and  drives,  the  contrast  seemed  so  cruel ;  but  she 
was  too  finely  tempered  to  think  of  that,  and  soon  showed 
me  that  such  small  share  in  my  advantages  as  the  descrip- 
tion of  these  could  give  her  w^as  an  enlivening  pleasure  to 
her,  not  a  source  of  envy  and  despair.  We  had  many  a 
merry  laugh  together  in  that  close  little  room,  carefully 
smothered  though  for  fear  of  disturbing  mother,  who 
would  be  asleep  in  the  room  above ;  and  we  had  many 
long  silences  too,  listening  to  the  intermittent  regularity 
of  the  weary  steam-hammer,  going  in  the  great  ironworks 
at  the  back — breaking  out  into  heavy  beats  that  made  the 
cottage  quiver,  then  pausing  for  an  appreciable  time, 
then  on  again,  thump,  thump,  thump,  incessantly  day 
and  night.     Poor  Janey  !     "  Sometimes  it  seems  to  shake 


^^S£U;,\  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR.  101 

me,"  she  said,  "  an'  when  I  sleep  I  feel  it  crushin'  me  'ere 
an'  crushin'  me  there,  an'  when  I  wake  it  goes  on  i'  me 
'ead  till  I  long  not  to  feel  nothin'  no  more — if  you  know 
what  I  mean.  I  don't  want  to  be  dead,  which  'ud  be 
wicked;  but  I  just  do  want  not  to  'ear  or  know.  Then 
there's  the  men.  They  comes  out  from  their  work  i' 
there  'eavy  clogs,  changin'  shifts,  six  hours  on  an'  six 
hours  off,  an'  I  do  dread  'em  comin',  for  the  clatter's 
awful.  But  of  course  there  must  alius  be  somethin'," 
she  concluded,  "  an'  you  'ave  your  troubles  too  as  keeps 
you  wakin'  o'  a  night  as  well  as  me  " — and  so  she  would 
return  to  my  affairs. 

I  had  made  her  a  picture  gallery,  with  colored  prints 
from  the  Christmas  papers,  by  this  time,  and  kept  her 
room  sweet  with  flowers,  both  cut  and  growing.  And  I 
had  also  taught  her  how  to  crochet  edging,  and  make 
warm  woollen  comforters  on  a  frame,  light  w^ork  that 
could  be  done  in  a  recumbent  position,  and-  afterwards 
sold.  Being  able  to  make  a  little  money  in  this  way  was 
a  great  addition  to  Janey's  happiness  just  then,  for  her 
brothers  had  got  out  of  work,  and  the  family  were  in 
poorer  circumstances  than  ever.  A  few  days  before  Christ- 
mas I  happened  to  ask  her  what  they  were  all  going  to 
have  for  their  Christmas  dinner. 

She  put  her  hand  under  her  pillow  where  she  kept  the 
family  purse,  and  answered  cheerfully  :  "  Oh,  I'll  just  get 
mother  to  go  out  and  buy  some  beef  pieces  to  make  a  pud- 
din'  for  the  childer.  You  don't  know  what  beef  pieces 
is  ?  The  bits,  you  know,  the  butcher  trims  off  of  joints. 
'E  sells  'em  cheap  at  night,  an'  if  you  boil  em  long  enough 
they're  not  too  'ard." 


162  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

Neither  Jiiuey  nor  any  of  her  family  were  beggars,  and 
I  had  always  felt  great  delicacy  about  offering  them 
money ;  but  when  I  went  home  that  day  it  occurred  to  me 
that  Santa  Claus  might  send  them  a  surprise  at  Christmas. 
So  we  got  a  big  hamper,  and  filled  it  with  Christmas  fare 
— beef,  mince-pies,  a  plum  pudding,  apples,  nuts,  toys  for 
the  children,  a  fowl  for  the  invalids,  fuel  for  cooking,  but- 
ter, eggs,  lard,  and  anything  else  we  could  think  of ;  and 
after  dark,  on  Christmas  eve,  two  of  the  servants  put  it 
down  at  the  door,  knocked,  and  ran  away. 

I  missed  my  regular  day,  and  did  not  see  Janey  for 
some  time  after  this,  hoping  that,  when  I  did  go,  the 
hamper  would  be  forgotten,  and  Janey  would  have  ex- 
cused my  absence  on  the  ground  of  the  busy  time  I  had 
had ;  but  in  this  I  was  allowing  little  for  Janey's  discern- 
ment. 

"  It  seems  quite  a  long  time  since  I  saw  you,"  I  began. 

"  Yes,"  Janey  answered,  "  but  you  needn't  'a'  stayed 
away  for  fear  we'd  thank  you  too  much  for  the  'amper.  I 
know  what  it  is  meself.  You  feel  awkward  like  when 
you've  got  to  be  thanked  ;  an'  I  ses  to  mother,  don't  you 
go  an'  say  too  much  now.  Eh  !  it  was  a  surprise !  I  just 
'appened  to  be  readin'  a  story  in  a  paper  that  mornin',  of 
'ow  some  poor  folks  'ad  a  big  'amper  left  at  their  door,  an' 
I  told  it  to  mother  while  she  was  washin'  me,  an'  mother 
she  ses,  '  Oh,  yes  !  them  things  'appens  in  books,  but  not 
in  real  life.  It's  easy  enough  to  make  things  come  right 
when  a  scratch  o'  the  pen  can  do  it.'  But,  'owever,  that 
very  night  I  was  lyin'  'ere  i'  the  dark,  to  save  candle,  an' 
there  cam'  a  big  knock  at  the  door  that  fairly  made  me 
jump,  an'  then  I  'card  footsteps  runnin'  away,  an'  I  calls 


JANEY,  A   UUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR.  1G3 

out  to  mother,  *  Don't  go,  mother,  it's  a  runaway.'  But 
she  went  all  the  same,  an'  I  'eard  'er  exclaim,  an'  then 
there  was  a  draggin'  of  summat  'eavy  about,  an'  mother 
she  comes  in,  an'  I  could  'ear  by  'er  voice  she  was  all  of  a 
trimble  like,  an'  she  ses  to  me  solemn,  '  Janey,'  she  ses, 
'  tilings  do  'appen  sometimes  in  real  life  like  as  if  it  was  a 
book.'  An'  then  !  if  I  didn't  know  the  moment  she  said 
it  what  she  meant ;  but  I  couldn't  say  nawthin',  I  was  so 
took  to.  Then  mother,  she  got  a  light,  an'  she  an'  Walter, 
me  eldest  brother,  brought  in  the  'amper  for  me  to  see  it 
unpacked,  an'  all  the  other  childer  stood  around,  and 
Tommy  'e  say,  '  Suppose  it's  a  'oax  ? '  An'  AValter  told 
'im  it  would  'a'  bin  if  'e  'a'  'ad  anything  to  do  wi'  it,  an' 
punched  'is  'ead  to  make  'im  shut  up ;  an'  then  mother 
began,  an'  took  the  things  out  one  after  the  other  as 
solemn  as  could  be  all  the  time,  though  the  children 
shouted,  on'y  when  she  cam'  to  the  beef  she  weighed  it  i' 
'er  'and  like,  an'  ses :  '  Sixteen  pounds,  I  do  believe ! ' 
An'  then  she  puts  'er  'and  into  the  'amper  again,  an' 
there  at  the  bottom  was  the  firin'  to  cook  it,  an'  at  that  she 
just  throw'd  'er  apron  up  over  'er  face,  an'  sat  'erself  down 
in  that  there  chair,  an'  rocked  'erself  to  an'  fro,  an'  'ad  a 
good  cry,  an'  that  relieved  'er.  An'  little  Georgie  'e  say  : 
'  Go's  'urt  mother?'  An'  I  ses  :  '  'Ush,  Georgie,  no  one's 
'urt  mother.  Mother's  on'y  very  glad,  that's  all.'  An'  it 
was  queer  to  see  the  little  chap  stannin'  lookin'  at  'er  puz- 
zled like,  you  know^  'E  don't  cry  when  'e's  glad,  'e  don't ! 
An'  eh  !  that  beef,  m'am  !  It  was  as  sweet  as  a  nut !  an' 
that  tender  I  could  eat  it  i'  spite  o'  me  teeth." 

She  had  lost  almost  all  her  teeth,  a  defect  which  did 
not  disfigure  her  because  she  scarcely  parted  her  lips  when 


lOi  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

slic  smiled.  "  But  indeed  I'm  glad  they're  gone,"  she  said 
to  me,  alluding  to  her  teeth,  "for  they  was  nobbut  a 
trouble  while  I  'ad  any.  They  began  to  go  while  1  was  in 
service  i'  London,  an'  my  missus,  as  was  a  very  good  livin' 
lady  an'  kind  to  us  all,  down  to  me  as  was  nobbut  scullery 
maid  then,  she  'card  I  'ad  toothache,  an'  she  ses  she'd  send 
me  to  a  dentist  place.  It's  a  kind  o'  charity.  You  don't 
pay.  I  think  young  gents  goes  there  to  learn  the  dentistry 
business,  an'  my !  they  do  torture  you.  I  didn't  know 
what  it  was,  else  I'd  not  'ave  gone,  not  was  it  ever  so.  'Im 
as  did  my  teeth  used  to  get  me  'ead  fast  in  a  chair,  an'  put 
a  thing  in  me  mouth  to  'old  it  open,  an'  then  'e'd  leave  me 
like  that,  an'  go  an'  laugh  an'  talk  wi'  the  other  young 
gents ;  an'  when  'e  'urt  me  an'  I'd  make  a  noise,  'e  used 
to  say :  '  Now  jest  you  shut  up.  You  know  you're  a  pau- 
per an'  gets  all  this  'tendance  for  nothin',  an'  good  den- 
tistry too.'  But  it  wasn't  good  dentistry,"  she  added,  "  for 
it  'urt  awful  all  the  time,  an'  didn't  last." 

This  casual  glimpse  of  the  price  which  the  unfortu- 
nates who  have  to  rely  upon  "  charity  "  pay  for  the  same 
is  the  kind  of  thing  which  makes  one  long  to  visit  such 
"  young  gents  "  with  a  big  stick  while  one's  blood  is  boil- 
ing ;  but  Janey  was  not  by  way  of  complaining.  She  held 
that  to  do  and  to  suffer  were  an  inevitable  and  necessary 
part  of  to  be. 

"Then,"  she  continued,  "I  did  for  'em  in  'ospital 
meself,  for  they  'urt  that  bad  I  begged  'em  to  give  me 
summat,  an'  they  got  me  creosote,  an'  one  of  the  nurses 
she  tol'  me,  '  If  you  use  that,  you'll  not  'ave  a  tooth  left  i' 
your  'ead.  It'll  destroy  them  all.'  'An','  I  ses,  'all  the 
better.'     An'  sure  enough  it  did  destroy  'em  all,  axpress, 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  1C5 

but  a  stump  or  two,  an'  I  wisli  they'd  go  as  well,  I  do,  for 
they're  nowt  but  a  bother."  She  smiled  as  she  spoke,  then 
pulled  herself  up  a  little  by  the  rope  hanging  from  the 
ceiling,  and  apologised  for  the  vagaries  of  her  legs,  "  which 
do  jum])  so  as  never  was  to-day." 

"How  did  your  illness  begin,  Jauey?"  I  asked. 

"  It  was  carryin'  'eavy  weights  before  I'd  done  growing 
begun  it,"  she  answered.  *'  Me  aunt,  me  father's  sister, 
^vas  cook  in  a  gentleman's  'ouse,  an'  when  I  was  fifteen  I 
was  a  big  gell,  and  she  ses,  '  Send  Janey  to  me  an'  I'll 
make  'er  scullery  maid,  an'  she'll  get  to  be  kitchen  maid 
an'  cook  in  time.'  An'  me  aunt  was  that  particular  it 
seemed  like  as  if  I'd  niver  no  rest,  for  when  I  wasn't 
workin'  'n  the  kitchen,  she  made  me  sit  down  to  sewin', 
makin'  me  own  things — an'  eh !  I  did  get  together  a  good 
set  out!  But  I  'ad  to  carry  'eavy  saucepans  of  water  an' 
things,  an'  likely  strained  meself  even  afore  I  got  to  be 
kitchen  maid,  an'  after  that  the  work  was  'arder  nor  ever ; 
but  I  sent  mother  'ome  a  lot  of  money !  Then  I  began  to 
feel  queer  i'  me  legs,  an'  one  day  I  jest  flopped  down  on 
me  knees  an'  couldn't  get  up  again,  an'  me  aunt  was  cross. 
She  thouglit  I  was  shammin'.  But  that  passed  off,  on'y  I 
went  on  gettiu'  weak  an'  feelin'  bad  i'  me  back,  till  at  last 
you  could  see  as  I  couldn't  drag  on  any  more,  an'  I  ses* 
*  Oh,  aunt,  you'll  not  scold,  for  I  can't ;  I  tol'  you  I'd  go 
on  till  I  dropped,  an'  I  'ave.'  Then  she  spake  to  missus 
to  send  me  'ome  for  a  rest :  an'  while  I  was  at  'ome  me 
legs  lost  all  power  on  a  suddent,  an'  that  time  it  didn't 
come  back,  an'  then  mother  took  me  to  a  'ospital,  an'  the 
very  first  question  the  doctor  ast  me  was  'ad  I  'ad  a  fall. 
An'  at  first  I  ses  no,  an'  then  it  come  back  to  me  all  of  a 


166  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

'eap.  I  was  'urrying  down  stairs  one  day  afraid  aunt  'ud 
scold  me  for  bein'  late  an'  lazy,  an'  I  slipped  an'  fell  on 
me  back ;  an'  when  I  came  to  think  on  it  as  sure  as  enny- 
think  it  was  from  that  time  I  felt  the  pain." 

Armed  with  these  details,  I  went  to  consult  a  specialist 
about  Janey,  in  the  forlorn  hope  that  there  might  still  be 
something  to  be  done  for  her.  He  said,  so  far  as  he  could 
form  an  opinion  without  seeing  her,  he  should  be  inclined 
to  suppose  that  it  was  a  case  of  hysterical  paralysis,  a  thing 
which  might  have  been  cured  if  properly  treated  in  time. 
But  he  shook  his  head  and  was  doubtful  now  when  he 
heard  about  her  legs  being  drawn  up  to  her.  The  thing, 
however,  was  to  arouse  in  her  a  strong  desire  to  recover. 
Singularly  enough  I  had  never  heard  her  express  any  wish 
on  the  subject.  She  had  evidently  been  a  "show  case "  in 
the  hospital,  a  subject  of  peculiar  interest  to  the  medical 
men  which  led  to  her  being  made  much  of ;  and  when  first 
she  returned  home  after  she  was  stricken  hopelessly,  as  it 
was  supposed,  numbers  of  people  had  come  to  see  her, 
more  out  of  curiosity  than  kindness — the  sort  of  people 
who  are  collected  by  the  excitement  of  a  great  calamity, 
but  disappear  when  its  effect  upon  themselves  wears  off. 
Janey,  however,  had  enjoyed  her  little  notoriety,  and  the 
being  "  fussed  up,"  too  much  at  the  time  to  suffer  acutely 
from  fear  of  the  dreadful  future  before  her.  As  the  days 
wore  on,  however,  and  there  was  no  change  in  her  to  keep 
the  first  fiash  of  interest  alive  in  her  visitors,  their  visits 
became  fewer  and  fewer,  until  at  last  the  good  vicar,  his 
wife,  the  scripture  reader  and  myself  were  all  who  ever 
came  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the  long  dull  days.  A  propos 
of  this  falling  off  of  her  friends  Janey  gave  me  a  bright 


JANEY,  A   nUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  167 

instance  of  her  patient  moderation.  I  had  been  feeling 
indignant  with  tliose  people  who  had  only  paid  Janey 
attention  while  they  could  make  capital  of  her  case  from 
which  to  draw  large  interest  for  their  conversation ;  and  I 
was  especially  angry  with  one  lady  who  accepted  credit  for 
her  supposed  devotion  to  the  poor  girl  while  all  the  time 
neglecting  to  visit  her. 

"  She  has  not  been  to  see  you  yet,  then  ?  '*  I  happened 
to  remark  one  day,  involuntarily  implying  a  reproach,  I 
am  afraid. 

"  Ah,  well,  you  sec,"  said  Janey  tolerantly,  "  she  'as 
amany  things  to  do,  an'  must  find  it  'ard  to  remember  'em 
all.  When  she  ses  she'll  come  she  means  to  right  enough ; 
but  one  thing  crowds  another  out  o'  'er  mind,  an'  that's 
'ow  it  'appens  she  forgets  me." 

Shakespeare  puts  it  more  concisely  : 

"  What  we  do  determine  oft  we  break  ; 
Purpose  is  but  the  slave  to  memory." 

But  Janey's  kindly  wisdom  only  differed  from  his  in 
the  expression  of  it. 

"Do  you  like  being  read  to,  Janey?"  I  asked,  soon 
after  our  acquaintance  began. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  not  very  enthusiastically. 
"  Scripter  reader  and  the  vicar  they  comes  an'  reads." 

"  What  do  they  read  to  you  ?  " 

"  The  Bible,  as  is  what  they're  paid  to  do,  you  know," 
she  answered,  with  a  fine  appreciation  of  the  obligation 
entailed  to  honestly  earn  one's  wages.  "  An'  Miss  Ilawke, 
she  used  to  read  to  me  about  the  martyrs  till  I  got  the 
'orrors  thinkin'  of  'cm.      Mrs.  Miller  used  to  read  too, 


1G8  JAXEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR. 

an'  Mrs.  Frier,  about  this  miserable  world  an'  all  people 
'as  to  bear,  till  I  was  that  low  sperrited  I  used  to  lie  'ere 
an'  cry  to  meself  alone.  An'  they  used  to  read  about 
'eaven  too,  an'  ow'  'appy  we  should  be  to  think  o'  goin' 
there,  an'  'ow  all  this  affliction  was  sent  to  try  us.  I  used 
to  be  thinkin'  too  much  about  gettin'  well  at  first,  but 
Mrs.  Frier  she  tol'  me  that  w^asn't  right,  that  we  should 
bear  what  the  Lord  sends  us  wi'out  repining,  an'  be 
thankful  when  'e  doesn't  make  it  no  'arder  for  enny  on 
us  nor  'e  'as  for  me,  black  sinner  as  I  am." 

"  Then  Mrs.  Frier  told  you  all  wrong,"  I  answered 
boldly.  "  That  is  a  demon  she  worships,  a  frightful  spirit 
who  wantonly  tortures  us."  Janey  look  startled.  *'  Does 
a  father  afflict  his  children  ?  "  I  asked  her.  She  shook 
her  head  dubiously.  *'  He  may  chide  and  punish,  but  he 
doesn't  injure  them,"  I  pursued — "  and  you  are  to  think 
of  getting  well." 

After  that  I  began  to  read  her  cheerful  secular  stories 
to  fill  her  with  a  wholesome  love  of  life,  and  carefully 
avoided  all  those  goody-goody  productions  which,  by 
preaching  a  stultifying  resignation,  would  naturally  tend 
to  confirm  her  in  her  hopeless  condition. 

After  Christmas  the  circumstances  of  the  family  had 
greatly  improved,  thanks  to  Janey,  who  had  worked  won- 
ders from  her  sick  bed,  having,  by  dint  of  boldly  sending 
for  people  to  beg  their  help,  and  writing  curiously  spelt 
missives  in  her  queer  unpractised  hand,  succeeded  in 
placing  three  of  her  brothers  and  a  sister  in  situations — 
one  brother  as  grocer's  assistant,  another  in  a  printing 
office,  the  third  in  the  "  works,"  and  her  sister  in  service ; 
and  as  all  four  children,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR.  169 

county,  contributed  to  the  support  of  "  the  home,"  the 
pinch  of  poverty  was  no  longer  felt  there.  Janey  herself 
too,  not  content  Avith  "minding  father,"  ordering  his  go- 
ings out  and  his  comings  in,  his  food  and  clothing,  ad- 
ministering the  funds  of  the  family  to  the  best  advantage 
for  everybody,  and  managing  the  household  generally, 
had  taken  the  child  of  a  girl  in  the  neighbourhood  who 
had  "  'appened  a  misfortune  " — to  use  her  own  quaint 
euphemism — "  to  tend,"  by  which  she  made  a  few  more 
shillings  a  week  herself.  The  child,  a  little  girl,  required 
a  good  deal  of  "  tending,"  being  about  a  year  old,  very 
sturdy,  and  just  able  to  toddle ;  but  Janey,  lying  on  her 
back  in  bed,  only  just  able  to  move  her  arms,  did  wonders 
with  her,  keeping  'her  amused  from  the  time  she  woke 
till  she  fell  asleep  again,  simply  by  talking  to  her,  and 
"  all  the  while  'aving  an  eye  to  father,"  who  was  apt  to  be 
troublesome  if  Janey's  vigilance  relaxed.  She  had  a  long 
stick  with  a  handle  now,  a  most  useful  instrument  with 
which  she  could  reach  to  any  part  of  the  room,  using  it 
like  a  shepherd's  crook,  opening  and  shutting  the  door 
with  it,  pulling  the  baby  back  to  her  bedside  by  her  waist- 
belt  when  she  crept  out  of  reach,  and  administering 
condign  punishment  to  father  if  she  caught  him  "  at  his 
tricks,"  to  which,  after  the  arrival  of  the  baby,  he  had 
added  breaking  her  playthings,  stealing  her  sweets,  and 
slyly  pinching  her. 

"  Poor  father  !  "  Janey  exclaimed  tenderly.  "  When 
mother  goes  out  an'  leaves  'im  for  me  to  tend,  it  do  seem 
as  if  'e  knew  I  Avas  'elpless,  'e  do  be'ave  that  bad.  An'  'e 
can't  abide  the  baby.  'E's  kind  of  jealous  of  'er,  I  think, 
an'  would  do  'er  a  mischief  if  it  wasn't  for  the  stick.     I 


lYO  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

catches  'im  glowerin'  at  'er,  but  if  'e  sees  I  sees  'im  'e 
pretends  it's  summat  else  'e's  lookiu'  at,  for  e's  that  cun- 
ning— you  wouldn't  believe !  But  I  jest  shakes  the  stick 
at  'im,  an'  ses  :  '  Ugh  !  you  would,  would  you  ? '  an'  e's  as 
meek  as  Mary  'ad  a  little  lamb." 

Xow  that  they  were  more  comfortably  off,  Janey  de- 
cided at  my  instigation  to  move  to  a  better  house,  where 
there  would  be  room  for  her  to  have  a  full-sized  bed  and 
more  accommodation  generally,  besides  the  relief  of  quiet 
after  the  thud  of  the  steam  hammer  and  roar  of  the  big 
ironworks  at  the  back,  and  the  heavy  patter  of  clogged 
feet  on  the  petrified  pats  of  butter  of  which  the  pavement 
in  front  appeared  to  be  composed.  The  mother,  helpless, 
querulous,  fatalistic,  and  a  chronic  sufferer  from  extreme 
debility,  had  no  energy  for  the  move.  It  would  upset 
Janey,  she  was  sure,  and  disagree  with  father,  and  so  on ; 
but  I  overcame  her  opposition  by  showing  her  that  she 
had  already  been  to  blame  for  allowing  Janey's  legs  to 
contract  so  much,  and  it  was  her  duty  now  to  put  herself 
out  to  any  extent  necessary  for  Janey's  good.  The  latter 
was  nervous  herself  about  being  moved.  She  had  not 
been  out  of  her  little  room  for  three  years,  and  the 
thought  of  being  carried  through  the  streets  "  an'  seein' 
'em  all  again  "  excited  her ^ so  much  that  she  was  pros- 
trated for  days  before  the  event.  When  the  ordeal  was 
over,  however,  and  she  found  herself  in  a,  comparatively 
speaking,  large  bright  room,  newly  papered,  with  plants 
growing  in  a  box  outside  the  window,  pictures  in  frames 
on  the  walls,  a  big  armchair  for  father,  a  delightful 
spring  bed  for  herself,  and  a  cot  for  baby,  she  said  she 
felt  as  if  she  could  sit  up ! 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  171 

"  Of  course  you  will  sit  up,"  I  answered.  "  It  is  only 
a  matter  of  time." 

I  had  been  telling  her  this,  and  trying  to  rouse  her  out 
of  the  depressing  state  of  resignation  I  had  found  her 
preached  into,  ever  since  I  had  consulted  the  specialist  on 
her  account.  After  I  had  spoken  she  looked  at  me  in 
a  shy  timorous  way,  as  if  she  wanted  to  say  something, 
but  did  not  like  to,  and  she  had  a  cheap-looking  publica- 
tion in  her  hand  which  she  was  fingering  nervously. 

"  What  is  it,  Janey  ?  "  I  asked.     "  You  must  tell  me." 

She  bent  her  head  towards  me,  and  spoke  in  a  mys- 
terious whisper. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  faith-healing  ? "  she  asked,  and 
then  she  held  out  the  penny  publication. 

There  was  a  good  deal  in  the  papers  just  then  about 
faith-healing  a  propos  of  the  "  miraculous  cures  "  brought 
about  by  pilgrimages  to  Lourdes  and  elsewhere,  and  know- 
ing that  marvellous  results  really  had  followed  the  effects 
of  excitement  and  "  faith  "  in  the  minds  of  hysterical  pa- 
tients, I  saw  a  possible  chance  for  Janey,  and  answered 
without  hesitation,  "  Yes,  I  do." 

One  of  her  brothers  had  brought  in  a  paper  on  the 
subject  published  by  a  society  then  practising  faith-heal- 
ing in  London.  Many  most  interesting  accounts  were 
given  of  cures  effected  at  prayer  meetings,  and  on  what 
would  otherwise  have  been  the  patient's  death-bed.  The 
reports  were  worked  up  with  much  detail,  which  made 
them  exciting  reading  for  one  in  Janey's  condition,  and  I 
could  feel  that  she  was  watching  me  with  great  anxiety 
and  trepidation  as  I  perused  them. 

"  Do  you  believe  it  ?  "  she  asked  again  eagerly. 
13 


172  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

*'  I  believe  you  are  just  one  of  the  best  cases  to  try  it 
on.  I  think  you  could  be  greatly  benefited  by  this  kind 
of  thing,"  I  answered.  "  I  will  write  them  an  account  of 
your  trouble,  if  you  like,  and  ask  them  what  they  would 
recommend." 

Janey  pulled  herself  half  up  by  her  rope  hanging  from 
the  ceiling,  then  let  herself  drop  on  her  pillow  again,  not 
knowing  how  to  contain  her  eagerness  and  anxiety. 

My  letter  was  addressed  to  a  lady  who  seemed  to  be 
one  of  the  leaders  of  the  faith-healing  movement,  and  by 
return  of  post  I  received  a  gentle,  courteous  reply,  the 
sum  and  substance  of  which  was  :  "  Is  not  this  dear  child 

committed  to  your  care  ?     Eead "  then  followed  a  list 

of  texts,  which,  I  regret  to  say,  I  have  lost  and  forgotten. 
I  had  boldly  suggested  that  the  faith-healers  should  come 
and  cure  my  Janey  if  they  could,  but  they  preferred  to 
let  me  have  the  credit  of  curing  her  myself,  it  seemed — 
also  if  possible,  I  suppose.  But,  allowing  that  "  this  dear 
child  "  was  committed  to  my  care,  how  much  should  I  be 
justified  in  doing  to  enable  her  to  apply  her  strength  of 
mind  to  the  healing  of  her  body  ?  I  knew  well  what  ex- 
traordinary results  have  been  brought  about  by  the  influ- 
ence of  mind  on  matter,  and  also  knew  with  what  child- 
like confidence  she  would  carry  out  any  suggestion  I  might 
make  ;  would  it  be  right  to  try  ?  But  how  could  it  be 
otherwise  ?  I  did  think  of  consulting  some  one  wiser 
than  myself,  but  then  I  was  afraid  of  being  discouraged, 
and  I  knew  the  experiment  could  only  be  well  made  by 
one  without  doubt  and  all  enthusiasm. 

I  took  the  whole  week  to  screw  up  my  courage,  I  con- 
fess, but  when  my  next  day  came  for  visiting  Janey  I  went 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR.  173 

in  bravely  and  told  her  I  could  help  her  to  cure  herself,  ex- 
plaining that  I  was  not  able  to  do  it  by  the  means  which 
the  society  employed,  but  that  I  had  a  method  of  my  own 
which  was  just  as  effectual.  I  told  her  also  that  I  should 
require  a  piano  to  help  me,  and  would  send  one  during 
the  week,  and  recommended  her  to  begin  at  once  to  be- 
lieve firmly  that  she  was  going  to  be  cured. 

Janey  heard  me  with  reverent  attention,  and  when  I 
left  her  there  was  a  glow  in  her  grey  eyes  and  an  expres- 
sion of  exaltation  on  her  face  that  frightened  me.  Sup- 
pose I  made  bad  worse  ?  The  thought  was  alarming  ;  but 
I  felt  I  must  go  on  now  and  do  something,  otherwise  I 
should  be  running  the  risk  of  making  bad  worse  in  an- 
other way,  by  inflicting  a  dreadful  disappointment  on 
Janey,  and  robbing  her  through  myself  of  her  faith  in 
her  fellow-creatures. 

We  had  decided,  between  ourselves,  not  to  mention 
the  experiment  to  any  one  until  we  had  tried  it.  Janey 
agreed  with  me  that  the  attempt  would  create  a  disturb- 
ing amount  of  interest  among  her  people,  and  I  was  afraid 
of  the  criticism,  not  to  mention  the  ridicule  of  my  own. 

Janey  was  delicately  emotional,  I  knew,  for  I  had  read 
her  Tennyson  and  Longfellow,  and  seen  her  transparent 
skin  suffused  with  pale  pink  flushes  of  pure  pleasure  when 
I  came  to  the  passages  that  specially  appealed  to  her.  She 
would  repeat  such  words  as  : 

"  .  .  .  .  the  woodbine  spices  are  wafted  abroad, 
And  the  musk  of  the  roses  blown," 

lovingly ;  and  mount  to  an  evident  devotional  enthusiasm 
on  lines  like  : 


174  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

"  Ah,  Lover !  Brother !  Guide  !  Lamp  of  the  Law  ! 
I  take  my  refuge  in  thy  name  and  thee ! 
I  take  my  refuge  in  thy  Law  of  Good  ! 
I  take  ray  refuge  in  thy  Order !     Om  ! 
The  dew  is  on  the  lotus ! — Rise,  Great  Sun ! 
And  lift  my  leaf  and  mix  me  with  the  wave. 
Om  mani  padmi  hum,  the  Sunrise  comes ! 
The  Dewdrop  slips  into  the  shining  Sea." 

And  it  had  occurred  to  me  that  if  words  whose  mean- 
ings she  could  only  gather  approximately  had  power  to 
move  her  deeply  chiefly  by  the  rhythm  and  sound  of 
them,  then  music  must  certainly  be  a  most  effectual 
adjunct  to  any  attempt  to  work  upon  her  will  pleasurably 
through  her  emotions ;  and  therefore  the  piano. 

I  found  her  on  the  eventful  day  in  a  state  of  quiet  ex- 
altation, which  contrasted  favourably  with  the  inward 
trepidation  from  which  I  was  suffering.  She  was  full  of 
confidence — faith,  she  called  it.  Father  and  the  baby  had 
been  sent  out  for  the  afternoon,  that  there  might  be  no 
interruption.  The  piano  had  been  placed  by  her  direc- 
tion so  that  she  might  see  my  fingers  as  I  played,  and  I 
found  she  had  put  her  best  dressing-jacket  on,  and  had 
herself  and  the  room  smartened  up  to  the  utmost  extent, 
as  for  a  festive  occasion. 

I  dared  not  hesitate,  so  I  began  at  once — feeling  all 
the  time  as  if  I  were  doing  a  deed  of  darkness — practising 
a  black  forbidden  art. 

"You  know  what  faith  is,  Janey?"  I  said  sol- 
emnly. "  You  must  believe  that  there  is  a  great  power 
which  can  and  will  cure  you,  and  that  presently  you 
will   be  able  to  sit  up  again.     You  must  rest  on  that 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR.  175 

thought,  as  it  were,  and  let  it  make  you  feel  happy  and 
strong." 

Janey  grasped  the  handles  of  the  rope  suspended 
above  her  with  both  hands,  and  drew  a  deep  breath. 
"  Will  it  come  all  of  a  sudden  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  I  replied.  "  But  don't  look  about  the 
room.  Watch  my  fingers  as  I  play ;  listen  to  the  music ; 
and,  above  every  thing, /eeZ  it.  Open  your  heart  to  it  as 
to  a  great  joy ;  let  it  tingle  through  you  ;  and  be  sure  that 
it  will  bring  new  life  to  you." 

I  had  begun  to  believe  in  it  myself  by  this  time,  and 
sat  down  to  the  piano  in  nearly  as  great  a  state  of  exalta- 
tion as  Janey  was,  fortunately,  for  otherwise  I  should  have 
been  nervous ;  but  as  it  was  I  could  play — better  than  my 
best,  I  fancied.  I  chose  the  music  which  "  speaks  to  the 
heart  alone,"  and  was  conscious  at  first  of  how  it  was 
affecting  Janey ;  but  presently  I  forgot  her,  and,  drifting 
off  to  measures  that  affect  the  imagination,  I  became 
absorbed.  The  world  without  passed  from  my  compre- 
hension. There  was  an  interval  filled  with  sensations  of 
sound  alone,  then  the  faculty  by  the  aid  of  which  we 
walk  in  dreams  awoke,  uncertainly  at  first,  scenes  ap- 
pearing as  on  a  misty  morning,  blurred  into  vagueness. 
This,  however,  was  but  a  borderland  of  shadows,  which, 
rapidly  stirring,  left  me  wrapped  in  the  contemplation  of 
a  great  procession  which  was  passing  slowly  between  high 
houses  down  a  narrow  street.  The  houses  were  yellow 
stone,  and  above  them  there  was  a  slender  strip  of  sky, 
intensely  blue,  with  one  great  white  dazzling  mass  of  sun- 
briglit  cloud  upon  it.  It  was  a  procession  of  women  in 
flowing  robes  of  exquisite  amethyst  tints.     They  walk  in 


176  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

step,  carrying  harps,  on  which  they  played  an  accompani- 
ment while  they  sang  : — "  To  us !  to  us  it  is  given  to  do 
great  deeds ! "  And  so  singing  they  came  to  the  end  of 
the  long  street  of  flat-roofed  Oriental  houses  with  tiny 
casements,  and  passed  out  into  the  open  desert,  where  the 
heat  radiated  upwards  from  the  yellow  sand.  And  here 
they  sejoarated  as  water  separates,  spreading  widely  when 
it  emerges  from  a  narrow  channel  into  an  open  space,  but 
still  flowing  on  in  one  direction ;  so  they  separated,  each 
reclining  on  the  invisible  air,  as  it  seemed,  and  floating 
off  apart.  Their  dresses  flashed  like  gems  in  the  sun- 
shine. Their  hair  shone.  Their  harps  resounded  to  the 
touch  of  their  milk-white  hands,  and  their  clear  rich 
voices  rang  out  always  triumphantly  : — "  To  us  !  to  us  it  is 
given  to  do  great  deeds !  "  And  so  singing  they  passed  on 
over  the  desert  into  the  west,  their  voices  falling  fainter 
and  fainter,  their  forms  growing  more  shadowy  and.  indis- 
tinct, till  the  ono  was  invisible  and  the  other  had  died 
away. 

But  where  was  Janey?  My  conscience  smote-  me  for 
having  left  her  alone,  for  I  knew  that  she  could  not  go 
unguided  into  the  wonderful  land  of  light  which  music 
made  me  free  of ;  and  as  I  struck  the  last  soft  quivering 
chord  arpeggio^  I  turned  to  look  at  her. 

She  was  sitting  up. 

And  from  that  day  too  she  continued  to  sit  up — in 
bed  at  first,  but  by  degrees  she  became  strong  enough  to  be 
moved  into  a  chair,  and  dressed.  Then  she  got  so  far  as  to 
be  able  to  get  out  of  bed,  dress  herself,  and  hobble  about 
the  room ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that,  but  for  her  moth- 
er's fatal  apathy  in  letting  her  legs  contract,  she  would 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  177 

eventually  have  quite  recovered.  There  was  no  stretch- 
ing those  stiff,  shortened  tendons  back  to  their  normal 
length,  however,  and  poor  Janey  remained  a  cripple ;  but 
happily  a  very  active  one. 

We  got  her  a  bath  chair  next,  and  her  brothers  by 
turns  wheeled  her  out  every  day.  The  first  visit  she  paid 
was  to  me.  I  had  often  described  our  house  to  her,  and 
the  rooms  and  furniture,  and  when  she  arrived  she  was 
wheeled  into  all  the  ones  on  the  ground  floor,  and  was 
loud  in  the  expression  of  her  amazement  because  she  said 
she  hadn't  imagined  it  at  all  like  that. 

But  all  this  time  father  was  getting  more  troublesome, 
and  was  "  that  cunning  it  did  seem  sometimes  as  if  'e 
would  'ave  to  be  put  away."  I  had  had  a  little  window- 
garden  made  outside  Janey's  window  and  filled  with  flow- 
ers, of  which  she  took  the  greatest  care ;  but  one  evening, 
when  she  went  as  usual  to  trim  and  water  them,  she  found 
they  had  all  been  pulled  up  by  the  roots,  and  strewn  on 
the  ground  outside.  I  thought  the  rough  hands  from  the 
ironworks  had  done  it;  they  used  to  destroy  our  grounds 
when  they  could  effect  an  entry ;  but  Janey  said  "  no," 
with  a  wise  shake  of  her  head.  "  Hawks  dinna  peck  out 
hawks'  een.  The  men  '11  not  touch  our  flowers  now 
Sammy's  at  the  works.  It's  father ;  I  know  it's  father. 
'E  throwed  a  plate  at  baby  yesterday,  'e's  that  jealous  or 
summat  0'  the  child ;  an'  'e  doesn't  know  what  mischief 
to  be  up  to  next.  But  then,  it's  father,  you  know,  an'  if 
it  wasn't  that  it  'ud  be  summat  else." 

I  had  risen  to  take  my  leave,  and  she  looked  up  at  me 
with  her  peculiar  little  smile  that  scarcely  disturbed  a 
feature,  and  held  my  hand  a  moment  affectionately.     A 


17S  JANEY,  A   HUMBLE   ADMINISTRATOR. 

tinge  of  colour  had  come  to  her  delicate  cheeks  since  she 
was  able  to  go  out  into  the  fresh  air,  and  her  large  grey 
eyes  were  brighter,  It  was  a  most  interesting  face,  mel- 
ancholy in  repose,  but  beaming  with  good  feeling  and 
clear  intelligence, 

*'  Good-bye,  Janey,"  I  said,  "  until  next  Monday,  un- 
less you  can  come  to  see  me." 

"  Good-bye,  m'am,"  she  answered,  "  an'  thank  you 
kindly.  If  the  boys  are  either  of  'em  back  i'  time  to  take 
me  I'd  like  to  go ;  but  I'm  afraid  this  week  " — she  heaved 
a  little  sigh,  then  added  in  her  usual  cheerful  way — "  But 
of  course  if  it  is  to  be  it  will  be." 

The  following  Monday  I  laid  up  a  life-long  regret  for 
myself  by  going  to  see  Janey  much  later  than  I  had  ever 
done  before.  A  game  of  tennis  was  the  important  matter 
that  detained  me ! 

The  cottage  door  stood  ajar,  as  it  always  did  on  my 
visiting  day,  so  that  I  might  walk  in  without  disturbing 
the  siesta  of  mother  upstairs  by  knocking.  The  first 
thing  I  saw  on  entering  Janey's  room  was  father  sitting 
comfortably  by  the  window  in  his  big  armchair.  He 
greeted  me  with  a  cunning  grin.  Janey  was  prostrate  on 
the  floor,  and  the  baby  girl  was  sitting  beside  her  patting 
her  cheek.  I  thought  it  was  a  game  at  first,  but  Janey 
turned  a  ghastly  face  to  me  when  she  heard  my  step,  and 
moaned.  There  was  a  horrid  wound  on  the  side  of  her 
head,  and  there  was  a  heavy  wooden  stool  lying  near  her 
with  blood  upon  it.  I  called  through  the  open  window  to 
a  man  who  was  passing.  He  helped  me  to  lift  Janey  on  to 
her  bed,  and  then  hurried  off  for  a  doctor,  father  looking 
on  mean  while  with  a  self-satisfied  smirk,  and  every  now 


JANEY,  A   HUMBLE  ADMINISTRATOR.  179 

and  then  chuckling  to  himself  as  if  hugely  delighted  with 
something.  Janey  held  my  hand  convulsively.  She  was 
sensible,  and  looked  up  at  me  with  a  piteous  expression 
in  her  beautiful  eyes.  "  I  don't  know  as  'e  'ad n't  better  'a' 
bin  put  away,"  she  whispered,  "  for  where  mother  an'  the 
childer  will  be  if  ennything  'appens  to  me,  I  can't  imag- 
ine." She  stopped,  closed  her  eyes  for  a  little,  then 
looked  up  again.  "  It  seemed  to  come  over  'im  all  of  a 
minute,"  she  said — "  just  afore  you  came.  I  was  sittin' 
on  the  floor  playin'  wi'  baby,  an'  'e  jest  took  up  the  stool, 
an'  throwed  it  at  me,  grinnin'  all  the  time.  Oh !  you  bad 
man !  see  what  you've  done !  Eh !  but  it  'urts,  me  'ead 
does.  I  misdoubt  me  I'll  never  think  for  'em  all  no 
more."  Two  great  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  as  she 
spoke.  The  blow  would  not  have  killed  a  robuster  person, 
but  Janey  had  no  recuperative  power  in  her  fragile  body, 
and  never  rallied  from  the  shock  to  her  system.  Dear, 
good,  gentle  loving  creature  !  She  managed  "  to  think 
for  'em  all  "a  few  days  longer,  arranging,  directing,  advis- 
ing to  the  last.  She  had  been  silent  some  hours  before  the 
end,  and  we  who  were  sitting  beside  her  thought  we 
should  never  hear  her  low  sweet  voice  again  making  the 
harsh  words  musical  by  smoothing  out  the  rugged  aspirates 
— when  suddenly  she  began  to  murmur  something  about 
Georgie,  her  youngest  brother,  a  very  delicate  child  : — 
"  Watch  when  'e's  white,"  she  said,  "  an'  never  you  mind  no 
schoolmasters  nor  magistrates.  Jest  you  keep  'im  at'ome. 
'E'll  niver  do  no  'ard  work,  but  if  you  take  care  of 
'im   'e'll  be   good   for   a   light   business — stationery  and 

books " 

She  broke  off,  and  looked  at  the  piano.     I  had  de- 


180  JANEY,  A    nUMBLK   ADiMlNlSTRATOR. 

scribed  that  vision  of  the  singiug  women  to  her,  and  told 
her  how  to  interpret  it,  and  we  had  summoned  them  since 
more  than  once  for  our  encouragement,  so  that  I  knew 
what  she  meant  when  she  said  in  a  stronger  voice,  with  a 
last  little  smile  :  "  Would  you  play  it  again — very  soft  like 
— while  I  watch  your  fingers — an'  may  be  they'll  come 
and  'elp  me — 'elp  me  up — this  last  little  bit  o'  the  way." 

I  sat  down  to  summon  the  singing  women,  and  pres- 
ently we  heard  their  song — "  To  us !  to  us  it  is  given  to 
do  great  deeds ! " — and  down  the  narrow  street  of  the 
Oriental  city  they  swept  in  their  gem-tinted  garments, 
and  floated  out  into  the  desert,  and  on  towards  the  sunset. 
But  before  they  faded  quite  from  sight  and  hearing,  some 
one  touched  me  lightly  on  the  shoulder.  The  look  of 
pain  had  passed  from  Janey's  face,  a  tender  smile  lingered 
about  her  lips,  and  it  was  plain  that  "  they"  had  lovingly 
helped  her  gentle  spirit  up — that  last  little  bit  of  the  way. 


BOOMELLEN. 

"  Son  of  a  sad  dog  in  his  day,  sir." 

Su]srsHiNE  and  soft  airs,  scent  of  flowers  and  twitter  of 
birds,  all  summer  signs  recall  Boomellen.  Where  bright 
seas  were,  or  burnished  trout  streams,  or  murmurous  water- 
falls sparkled  in  the  heat,  there  was  he  likely  to  be  seen 
loitering.  Where  he  hid  himself  in  murky  weather  it 
it  would  be  hard  to  say,  but  certain  it  is  that  none  of  us 
can  recollect  an  occasion  of  the  kind  upon  which  he  ever 
appeared  among  us. 

But  although  associated  in  one's  mind  with  warmth, 
brightness,  and  the  music  of  moving  water,  he  was  not 
an  ethereal  being  in  point  of  appearance,  such  as  would 
suggest,  according  to  all  ideal  notions  on  the  subject, 
a  kinship  with  the  kindly  elements,  a  member  of  the 
family  of  Undine;  but  a  big,  broad-shouldered,  substan- 
tial fellow,  six  feet  high,  and  of  a  remarkably  healthy  as- 
pect ;  with  a  delicate  skin  that  never  flushed  but  was 
always  pinky  like  that  of  a  sleeping  girl,  a  splendid  head, 
thick,  glossy,  light  brown  curling  hair,  worn  rather  long 
and  never  parted,  small  ears,  and  features  delicate  and 
handsome,  but  of  a  strange  immobility.  The  impression 
left  by  his  face  was  always  as  if  its  impassive  calm  had 
never  been  ruffled  by  any  passion  of  earth.      Xo  other 


1S2  BOOxM  ELLEN. 

human  countenance  has  ever  produced  the  same  effect 
upon  me,  but  while  standing  before  the  great  bronze 
Buddha,  Dai-butsu,  as  he  sits,  the  image  of  contemplative 
calm,  the  passionless  perfection  of  repose,  among  the  trees 
of  his  grove  of  Karmakura,  in  Japan,  the  peculiar  sensa- 
tion recurred,  and  instantly  I  thought  of  Boomellen.  But 
Dai-butsu  felt  further  away  than  Boomellen  did — he  was 
not  of  the  earth,  while  on  the  contrary  there  seemed  to  be 
something  of  the  great  spirit  which  pervades  all  inanimate 
nature  in  Boomellen,  uniting  him  closer  to  that  portion  of 
it  which  neither  wakes  nor  sleeps,  nor  thinks  nor  feels 
nor  knows,  but  just  lives  and  dies,  than  the  human 
race.  When  he  spoke  his  lips  and  eyes  moved  of  neces- 
sity, but  this  did  not  disturb  the  character  of  that  imper- 
vious mask,  his  face,  any  more  than  the  waving  of  branches 
and  rustle  of  leaves  produces  an  impression  as  of  sentient 
being  in  a  tree.  What  was  behind  that  mask?  The 
question  was  inevitable,  for  his  countenance  was  one 
which  excited  interest  and  expectation,  and  you  waited 
anxiously  when  you  met  him  first  to  hear  him  speak. 
With  such  a  head,  it  seemed  impossible  that  he  should 
not  be  something  distinguished,  or  on  the  way,  well 
dowered  with  capacity,  to  become  so.  But  expectation 
and  interest  invariably  went  dissatisfied  away,  either 
thwarted  by  silence  or  puzzled  by  insignificant  words. 
Still  he  always  looked  as  if  he  had  so  much  in  him  that  no 
one  was  ever  quite  convinced  to  the  contrary,  perhaps 
because  his  habit  was  to  meet  any  attempt  to  draw  him 
out  with  an  impressive  stare,  as  if,  although  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  you,  his  thoughts  were  concentrated  on  some- 
thing worthier  of  his  attention,  which  was  disconcerting. 


BOOMELLEN.  183 

His  father's  estates  lay  in  the  wild  west  country,  run- 
ning down  to  the  rocky  rugged  coast,  and  back  among 
the  purple  mountains  ;  and  it  was  natural  to  suppose  that, 
having  been  born  and  bred  upon  the  spot,  he  would  have 
in  himself  an  innate  appreciation  of  the  grandeur  of  the 
scenery,  and  a  cultivated  eye  for  the  shades  and  colours 
of  changeful  cloud-forms,  and  the  vast  varieties  of  grand 
Atlantic  seas. 

The  first  time  we  saw  him,  I  remember,  we  were  sit- 
ting with  windows  wide  open,  looking  out  upon  a  bay 
into  which  at  the  moment  mighty  waves  were  rolling 
under  a  summer  sun  up  to  the  beetling  grey-black  cliffs 
against  which  they  burst  with  a  roar  like  muffled  thunder, 
casting  great  showers  of  spray  upward  into  the  air,  high 
enough  at  times  to  sprinkle  the  short  grass  and  sea-pinks 
which  grew  on  the  brink.  Every  now  and  then  a  broad- 
winged  sea-bird  would  hover  above  the  boiling  cauldron, 
look  down  into  the  turmoil  intently  for  a  little,  and  then 
sail  on  with  scarcely  any  perceptible  effort,  having  added  a 
curious  touch  of  life  and  intelligence  to  the  scene,  a  sen- 
sation in  our  minds,  as  it  were,  containing  the  involuntary 
comparison  of  the  superiority  of  one  little  atom  of  life  to 
all  that  rude  irresponsible  force. 

Boomellen  looked  out  with  the  rest  of  us,  his  big 
brown  eyes  distended,  his  whole  face  full  of  a  dreamy 
intensity. 

"  This  is  a  wonderful  country  of  yours  ! "  one  of  us  ex- 
claimed enthusiastically.  "  Is  it  possible  to  live  licre,  and 
not  be  a  painter,  or  a  poet,  or  inspired  in  some  one  way 
to  reproduce  and  perpetuate  such  beautiful  wonders  of 
sublimity  and  power?     You  must  love  the  place." 


184  B0031ELLEN. 

Boomellen  turned  his  wistful  eyes  from  the  scene,  and 
gazed  at  the  speaker. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  slowly,  after  some  seconds,  "  we  like 
the  place." 

"  Only  like  it !  Why  I  never  saw  anything  so  glorious 
as  this  view  !  Don't  you  think  so  yourself,  although  you 
are  accustomed  to  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Boomellen  repeated  in  measured  accents,  mo- 
notonously, and  without  the  slightest  show  of  animation  ; 
"yes,  it's  a  nice  view."  Then,  seeming  to  see  that  some- 
thing else  was  expected  of  him,  he  added :  "  There  won't 
be  any  porpoises  to-day,  but  sometimes  they  come  when 
the  tide  is  rising." 

Soon  after  making  this  last  remark  he  rose  abruptly, 
shook  hands  with  us  all,  and  withdrew,  without  having 
littered  another  word.  But  when  he  had  gone,  and  we 
tried  to  sum  him  up,  some  one  said  something  about  his 
"  cheerful  silence,"  and  remarked  that  it  was  companion- 
able as  that  of  the  dumb  dog  who  looks  up  lovingly  into' 
your  eyes. 

Boomellen  was  of  ancient  and  aristocratic  lineage. 
His  descent  could  be  traced  back  clearly,  both  on  his 
father's  and  mother's  side,  further  than  anybody  cared  to 
follow  it. 

"  Eh  !  that's  so,  yer  honour,"  an  old  woman  on  the  es- 
tate, who  had  been  descanting  about  the  family  to  my  father 
one  day,  informed  him  :  "  They  was  kings  in  these  parts, 
shure  enough,  wonst,  though  now  his  own  father's  nuthin' 
but  a  common  Justice  of  the  Peace,  'deed  an'  he  isn't. 
But  phat  cou' yer  honour  expect?  It's  the  oulder  the 
seed  the  warse  the  crop,  it  is,  och !  yes." 


BOOMELLEN.  185 

Boomellen  had  arrived  at  the  weary  end  of  his  ances- 
try, being  the  last  male  rejiresentative  and  heir  of  two 
nsed-np  races.  His  father  had  been  "  wild  "  in  his  youth, 
but  his  degrading  habits  were  cut  short  by  something 
which  suspiciously  resembled  epilepsy.  He  then  married, 
at  the  instigation  of  his  spiritual  director — the  girl  he 
chose  being  herself  the  daughter  of  a  drunken  father  and 
an  arrogant,  nervous,  irritable,  self-indulgent  mother. 
The  consequences  of  this  combination  in  Boomellen's 
mother  were  markedly  neurotic,  her  symptoms  appearing 
in  the  form  of  an  exaggerated  piety.  She  would  at  any 
time  (an  she  could)  have  upset  the  order  of  the  universe 
had  she  found  that  it  was  going  to  check  her  indulgence 
in  the  religious  exercises  which  were  her  favourite  pas- 
time. She  had  been  brought  up  in  a  convent,  and  indif- 
ferently educated,  her  reasoning  faculty  not  having  been 
at  all  developed,  while  the  emotional  tendency  which 
naturally  threatened  the  balance  of  her  intellect  had  been 
incessantly  worked  upon.  In  the  convent  she  was  de- 
scribed as  of  exalted  piety,  in  the  consulting-room  her 
diathesis  would  have  been  pronounced  hysterical.  Train- 
ing and  habit  had  also  confirmed  in  her  a  predisposition 
to  unquestioning  obedience  to  the  priest.  The  latter  had 
taught  her  that  it  is  good  to  save  souls,  that  the  soul  of  a 
reprobate  may  be  saved  by  marrying  him,  therefore  it  is 
good  to  marry  a  reprobate,  and  she  had  accepted  Boom- 
ellen's father  upon  this  conviction,  remaining  as  blind  as 
her  short-sighted  director  himself  to  the  conclusion  that 
by  doing  so  she  was  lending  herself  to  the  manufacture 
of  more  reprobates,  descendants  of  the  saved  one.  A  man 
may   change  his  habits  when  he  marries,  but   his  con- 


186  BOOMELLEN. 

stitution  remains  the  same,  and  it  is  the  constitution, 
laden  with  his  predominant  propensities,  which  he  most 
inevitably  transmits.  There  were  four  children  of  this 
marriage — Boomellen,  and  three  daughters,  the  eldest  of 
whom  entered  a  convent  by  way  of  the  Divorce  Court,  the 
second  did  not  get  so  far  as  the  convent,  and  the  third 
committed  suicide.  These  troubles  Boomellen's  mother 
attributed  to  her  ^laker,  it  had  been  His  will  so  to  afflict 
her  ;  but  He  had  also  been  merciful  in  giving  her  Boom- 
ellen, her  precious  youngest  child,  who  had  never  cost  her 
an  hour's  anxiety  in  his  life,  and  was  all  sweetness  and 
goodness — too  good,  in  her  estimation,  for  his  position ; 
he  ought  to  have  entered  the  priesthood. 

And  no  doubt  Boomellen  would  have  done  so  had  that 
course  been  suggested  to  him ;  it  not  being  at  all  his  way 
to  offer  active  opposition  to  those  in  authority  over  him. 

His  education  had  been  effected  in  England,  and  there 
he  had  learnt  to  write  a  beautiful  hand,  clear,  distinct, 
firm,  and  invariable.  He  was  also  apt  at  orthography, 
and  good  at  mathematics.  But  what  cultivation  his  mind 
had  otherwise  received  only  his  tutors  knew,  for  he  never 
betrayed  the  slightest  knowledge  of  any  subject  whatever 
to  any  one,  so  far  as  we  could  ascertain.  His  mother,  al- 
luding to  his  dreamy  ways,  and  the  pure  simplicity  of  his 
nature,  called  him  playfully — 

"  A  child  of  the  age  of  a  man, 
Whom  the  fairies  have  always  in  tow." 

She  had  all  kinds  of  convictions  on  the  subject  of  his 
mental  attributes,  and  told  us  illustrative  anecdotes  which 
at  first  impressed  us ;  but  we  learnt  eventually  to  doubt 


BOOMELLEN.  187 

her  knowledge  of  his  character,  for  she  had  evidently 
not  observed  him  much  since  his  extreme  youth,  the 
tastes  and  habits  she  still  ascribed  to  him  being  those  of 
his  childhood.  As  he  grew  up,  her  attention  had  be- 
come more  and  more  absorbed  by  her  own  pursuits,  and 
these  had  gradually  weaned  her  away  from  him,  he  going 
his  own  way,  while  she  was  rioting  in  pious  exercises 
which  left  her  unaware  of  the  flight  of  time,  and  of  cer- 
tain practices  which  might  have  caused  her  to  reflect  be- 
fore she  again  uttered  her  oft-repeated  conviction  that 
Boomellen  was  too  good  for  anything  but  the  priest- 
hood. 

We  were  new  to  the  neighbourhood,  but  he  made  him- 
self at  home  with  us  at  once,  and  tVould  ride  over  often  to 
see  us.  lie  was  not  fond  of  active  exercise  as  a  rule,  but 
riding  did  not  seem  to  be  an  accomplishment  of  his  so 
much  as  a  part  of  his  nature,  costing  him  as  little  effort 
as  it  costs  a  fish  to  swim  or  a  bird  to  fly.  But  he  was  truly 
an  incorrigible  loiterer,  and  would  often  stay  all  night  with 
us ;  not  because  there  was  anything  special  to  stay  for, 
but  only  because,  being  expected  to  return  to  dinner,  he 
felt  himself  detained  by  an  imperative  disinclination  to  be 
in  time.  lie  was  always  late  for  every  meal,  and  always 
the  last  to  come  down  in  the  morning,  but  such  breaches 
of  etiquette  in  no  way  affected  his  own  equanimity,  and  if 
a  remark  were  made  on  the  subject  it  always  seemed  to 
surprise  him,  as  though  he  could  not  comprehend  why 
habits  that  suited  himself  so  perfectly  should  not  be 
equally  agreeable  to  everybody  else. 

His  father  was  very  impatient  with  him. 

"  Gad,  gad,  gad,  sir  !"  he  would  exclaim  in  his  quick, 
13 


188  BOOMELLEN. 

nervous,  irritable  way — "  wliat  are  you  dawdling  about 
now  for  ?  What  the  devil  you  are  always  thinking  about 
T  can't  imagine." 

To  which  Boomellen  made  an  ox-like  answer,  dumbly, 
with  big  brown  eyes. 

But  we  discovered  he  did  pay  some  deference  to  his 
father's  wishes — in  a  way  that  was  quite  his  own.  He 
began  to  appear  with  a  book  under  his  arm.  Riding, 
driving,  walking,  eating  or  sleeping,  the  book  was  always 
beside  him,  but  no  one  had  ever  seen  him  open  it.  I 
asked  him  one  day  what  that  book  was.  He  took  it 
slowly  from  under  his  arm,  and  held  it  out  for  me  to  read 
the  title. 

"  Why,  I  don't  believe  you  know  what  it  is  yourself," 
I  exclaimed. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  was  his  candid  and  unexpected  answer, 
as  he  returned  it  to  its  place  under  his  arm  without  hav- 
ing had  the  curiosity  to  see  what  it  was. 

"  Then,  what  in  the  world  are  you  doing  with  it  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  answered  dreamily,  "  my  father 
has  been  at  me  continually  about  books.  He  was  always 
saying,  '  I  should  like  to  see  you  with  a  book,  my  boy.' 
So  at  last  I  went  to  the  library  and  took  this  one  out  be- 
cause it  was  a  comfortable  size,  and  I  carry  it  about  so 
that  he  may  see  me  with  a  book  as  he  wishes,  and  be 
pleased.     He  reads  books  himself." 

These  last  words  might  have  been  uttered  by  an  auto- 
maton, so  curiously  even;  mechanical,  and  void  of  all  em- 
phasis were  they ;  yet  the  impression  they  made  was  not 
impartial,  but  rather  as  if  Boomellen  were  criticising  his 


BOOMELLEN.  189 

father  for  doing  something  which  he  himself  found  to  be 
not  worth  while. 

He  lingered  a  little  in  his  loitering  way  after  he  had 
spoken,  and  then  he  strolled  from  the  room,  and  when 
next  I  saw  him  he  was  lounging  about  the  lawn  alone, 
flipping  leaves  from  the  trees  with  his  riding- whip. 
Eventually  he  settled  himself  in  a  sunny  spot,  lying  full 
length  on  the  grass,  watching  the  bees  and  butterflies,  the 
birds  skimming  about,  and  the  changeful  clouds  above 
him.  As  he  looked  up  into  the  sky,  I  was  painfully 
struck  with  the  expression  of  his  face — an  expression  of 
settled  melancholy.  I  have  often  seen  the  same  look 
since  on  other  faces,  and  always  found  that  those  who 
wore  it  were  the  last  survivors  of  a  worn-out  race.  It  is 
as  if  they  foresaw  their  inevitable  doom,  and  mourned  for 
the  extinction  of  their  family.  Some  people  see  the  same 
marked  melancholy  in  the  autumn  season,  and  recognise 
it  as  a  symptom  of  decadence. 

Boomellen  spent  the  rest  of  that  afternoon  lying  alone 
contentedly  upon  the  grass,  with  the  book  beneath  his 
head  as  if  he  were  imbibing  information  through  the 
pores,  on  Joey  Ladle's  principle.  My  father  came  into 
my  room  once,  and,  looking  out  at  him,  shook  his  head. 
"  Fatal  apathy  ! "  he  ejaculated,  "  and  what  a  pity  it 
seems  ! " 

And  I  knew  from  the  way  he  spoke  that  he  thought  it 
a  hopeless  case.  BfimmeJn,  an  incorrigible  loiterer,  was 
what  my  father  constantly  called  him,  and  the  word,  by 
mispronunciation  of  his  children,  was  converted  into 
Boomellen,  which  in  time  became  our  only  name  for  him. 

There  was  a  long  low  room  situated  in  an  otherwise 


100  BOOMELLEN. 

disused  wing  of  onr  house,  which  had  been  fitted  up  for 
the  boys  as  a  work-room.  It  was  far  enough  from  the 
inhabited  part  of  the  house  to  prevent  any  one  being  dis- 
turbed by  the  noise  they  made,  and  they  were  con- 
sequently at  liberty  to  amuse  themselves  as  they  pleased 
unrestrainedly.  Double  doors  shut  them  off  from  the 
rest  of  the  house,  and  their  privacy  was  seldom  invaded 
by  the  authorities.  Faint  sounds  of  hammer  and  saw  and 
plane,  of  boxing-gloves,  and  fencing  foils,  with  shouts  of 
laughter  and  loud  disputes  would  come  from  thence 
through  the  double  doors  or  open  windows  on  occasion, 
betokening  occupations  or  amusements  never  suspected  of 
being  otherwise  than  manly  ;  so  that  there  was  no  super- 
vision, and  the  boys  developed  trustworthiness  in  propor- 
tion to  the  confidence  which  was  placed  in  them. 

Boomellen  found  his  way  at  once  to  this  room,  and 
would  put  the  gloves  on  himself  sometimes,  and  make  a 
languid  show  of  boxing  if  urged  thereto,  or  would  handle 
the  foils  for  a  little,  but  without  interest.  He  liked  to 
look  on  best,  and  often  sat  by  the  hour  together,  silently 
watching  the  other  boys ;  presenting  a  pathetic  contrast 
in  his  quietude  to  the  restless  and  noisy  display  of  super- 
abundant vitality  which  kept  them  going.  Yet,  at  the 
first  glance  he,  with  his  magnificent  physique,  his  finely 
formed  hands  and  feet,  and  delicate,  regular,  high-bred 
features,  looked  like  a  superior  being  who  was  sorry  and 
sore  to  find  himself  matched  with  the  irregular  profiles 
and  the  undignified  exuberance  of  his  companions.  No 
one  would  have  supposed  for  a  moment  that  his  impres- 
sively handsome  husk  contained  not  a  tithe  of  the  im- 
mortal soul  which  animated  their  obviously  inferior  clay. 


BOOM  ELLEN.  191 

Oue  evening  my  father,  hearing  that  Boomellen  was 
in  the  work-room,  went  there  to  look  for  him  in  order  to 
get  him  to  take  a  note  back  with  him.  On  entering  the 
room  he  discovered  Boomellen,  apparently  alone,  sitting 
at  the  table  with  his  arms  folded  in  front  of  him,  and  his 
face  resting  upon  them,  as  if  he  were  asleep.  Beside  him 
were  two  huge  jugs  and  some  empty  glasses. 

"  Where  are  the  boys?"  my  father  exclaimed. 

Boomellen  slowly  raised  his  head,  and  greeted  him 
with  the  besotted  stare  of  a  drunken  man. 

"Boomellen!  how  is  this?"  my  father  demanded 
sternly. 

"  You  mush  exsheush  me,  sir,"  Boomellen  answered 
with  thick  utterance  and  exaggerated  formality,  "  but  the 
truth  isli  by  achsdent  I've  got  myshelf  vulgarly  drunk  on 
beer." 

That  was  not  the  worst  of  it,  however,  for  presently, 
under  the  table,  my  father  discovered  one  of  his  sons  still 
more  "vulgarly  drunk  "  than  Boomellen  himself. 

It  seems  that  the  other  boys  had  gone  out,  leaving 
these  two  alone  together,  Boomellen  idly  sitting  on  the 
sill  of  an  open  window,  in  apparently  rapt  contemplation 
as  was  his  wont,  his  companion  quietly  reading  a  book  of 
adventures  in  which,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  he  had  just 
come  upon  a  graphic  account  of  an  heroic  drinking-bout. 
He  was  absorbed  in  this  when  Boomellen  muttered  some- 
thing about  drink,  and  left  the  room.  On  inquiry  it  was 
found  that  he  had  gone  to  one  of  the  servants  and  asked 
him  for  the  jugs  of  beer  and  glasses,  and  the  man,  sup- 
posing that  they  were  required  for  the  whole  party,  gave 
him  as  much  as  he  wanted. 


192  BOOMELLEN. 

"  Let  us  drink,"  lie  said  when  lie  returned  with  the 
beer,  and  the  suggestion,  immediately  after  the  vivid  de- 
scription he  had  been  reading  of  this  refined  and  manly 
sport,  was  too  great  a  temptation  for  the  other  boy.  He 
tried  one  glass,  and  then  another,  and  so  on  until  he 
collapsed.  In  his  case,  however,  there  w^as  no  great  harm 
done,  but  rather  the  contrary  perhaps,  for  the  affair  was 
a  lesson  to  him,  and  he  was  so  thoroughly  ashamed  of  him- 
self that  he  made  a  vow  never  to  make  a  beast  of  himself 
in  that  particular  way  again,  and  kept  it. 

But  with  poor  Boomellen  it  was  far  otherwise.  He 
inherited  a  craving  for  drink,  and  from  that  time  he  had 
periodical  attacks  of  it  to  which  he  yielded  without  a 
struggle.  No  effort  had  been  made  to  teach  him  to  com- 
bat any  propensity  of  the  kind,  and  the  idea  of  resistance 
never  occurred  to  him  apparently.  There  were  those 
who  tried  to  exercise  a  kindly  preventative  influence  with 
him  in  the  matter  when  it  was  too  late,  that  is  to  say, 
after  the  disease  had  declared  itself,  and  he  would  listen 
politely  to  all  they  had  to  urge,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
conveyed  the  impression  that  he  thought  they  were  giv- 
ing themselves  most  unnecessary  trouble  about  a  trivial 
matter,  for  it  was  evidently  as  natural  for  Boomellen  to 
drink  when  the  craving  was  on  him  as  it  was  to  eat  when 
he  was  hungry.  It  was  a  sad.  and  significant  sight  to  see 
him  drink.  Alone  or  in  company  he  would  settle  down 
to  it  as  if  he  were  doing  indifferently  an  accustomed  task 
that  must  be  done.  His  favourite  place  for  the  purpose 
was  at  an  open  window,  and  there  he  would  sit  in  an 
easy  chair,  with  a  little  table  at  his  elbow  to  hold  his 
bottle  or  jug  and  glass ;  and  gradually,  as  he  drank,  his 


BOOMELLEN.  193 

eyes  would  oi^en  wider  and  wider  on  the  outward  prospect 
to  begin  with,  as  if  he  saw  by  degrees  further  and  further 
beyond  the  range  of  mortal  vision  into  the  unimaginable, 
and  was  amazed.  But  imperceptibly  as  he  proceeded 
the  brightness  was  overcast,  the  lids  became  swollen  and 
heavy,  his  muscles  relaxed,  his  back  bowed,  his  lips  lost 
their  firm  set,  and  the  expression  of  his  mouth  grew  weak 
and  vacillating.  Then  he  stretched  his  long  legs  straight 
out  before  him,  and  put  his  hands  in  his  trouser  pockets, 
w^hile  his  head  sank  forv/ard  on  his  chest;  and  so  he 
remained,  with  eyes  staring  wide  open,  yet  seeming  not 
to  see  at  all,  and  motionless  save  for  the  regular  mechan- 
ical effort  to  lift  the  fatal  glass  to  his  lips,  which  continued 
some  time  after  all  other  power  to  move  voluntarily  had 
ceased.  But  during  no  stage  of  the  process  did  he  depart 
from  his  habitual  manner ;  he  neither  laughed,  shouted, 
sang,  wept,  became  quarrelsome,  affectionate,  nor  even  ex- 
cessively maudlin,  but  just  maintained  his  habitual  cheer- 
ful silence,  and  gazed  into  vacancy  until  he  could  see  no 
more.  If  anything,  he  rather  preferred  to  be  alone  at  these 
times,  but  he  never  made  a  point  of  secluding  himself. 

When  his  father  heard  of  these  lapses  he  was  extreme- 
ly angry,  because,  he  said,  Boomellen  did  not  conduct  the 
affair  like  a  gentleman  :  "  Gad,  gad,  gad,  sir  ! "  he  assured 
him,  "a  gentleman  gives  an  entertainment — asks  his 
friends  on  these  occasions,  and  enjoys  himself  in  good  so- 
ciety. He  doesn't  settle  down  alone  like  a  hog  to  stupefy 
himself.  No  gentleman  drinks  for  the  sake  of  drinking, 
but  to  sharpen  his  wits  and  increase  his  conversational 
powers.  Let  me  hear  that  you  have  done  it  decently  the 
next  time." 


194  BOOMELLEN. 

Boomellen  did  not  develop  this  unliappy  propensity 
until  he  was  about  nineteen,  and  he  had  not  up  to  that 
time  evinced  any  disreputable  tendency  :  but  immediately 
after  that  first  sudden  attack  at  our  house,  he  began  to 
shock  his  father's  prejudices  in  another  way.  As  I  have 
said,  he  was  an  incorrigible  loiterer,  but  heretofore  his 
loiterings  had  been  solitary.  Kow,  however,  he  began  to 
appear — in  the  highways  as  a  rule — accompanied  by  one 
of  the  peasant's  daughters — one  at  a  time  that  is,  but  not 
always  the  same  one.  The  peasantry  themselves,  good 
judges  in  these  matters,  said  :  "  Och  !  sir,  let  his  honour 
alone.  Shure  the  girls  is  all  right,  and  they'll  kape  him 
shtraight."  And  my  father,  knowing  that  all-rightness 
is  the  rule  among  Irish  peasant  girls,  took  the  same  view 
of  the  matter.  Boomellen  merely  sought  in  their  society 
a  kind  of  comradeship.  The  sex  of  his  companions  in- 
fluenced his  choice  only  insensibly,  if  at  all ;  it  was  their 
lack  of  ideas  and  happy  silence  that  suited  him.  The 
county,  however,  was  naturally  scandalised,  and  deter- 
mined not  to  tolerate  such  conduct,  and  accordingly 
Boomellen  was  "  cut "  for  the  time  being  by  everybody 
who  met  him  anvwhere  in  the  neis^hbourhood  in  such 
strange  company.  But  this  did  not  disturb  him  at  all. 
He  was  absolutely  unaffected  by  public  oj^inion,  and  also 
by  the  wrath  of  his  father,  who  grossly  misjudged  him  in 
this,  his  own  moral  nature  being  so  constituted  that  he 
could  not  conceive  even  the  possibility  of  such  a  lapse 
from  the  established  order  of  iniquity  as  the  innocent 
roamings  of  Boomellen  with  his  friends  implied. 

"  Gad,  gad,  gad,  sir !  "  he  said  to  my  father,  "  the  pub- 
licity, you  know  !  the  publicity !     There's  no  necessity  to 


BOOiMELLEN.  ^[95 

make  a  parade  of  that  kind  of  thing.  A  gentleman  never 
does,  you  know.  I  strongly  ohject  to"  his  making  a  parade 
of  it.     It's  deuced  bad  form." 

He  reproved  Boomellen  himself  to  this  effect,  but  the 
latter  merely  gazed  into  his  face  with  bovine  stolidity,  as 
if  he  sympathised  with  his  mood  much  better  than  he  un- 
derstood his  remarks,  and  went  his  way  along  the  public 
roads  with  the  peasant  girls  as  before. 

The  drinking  scandals  had  been  carefully  concealed 
from  his  mother,  but  some  busybody  made  her  acquainted 
with  this  new  difficulty,  and  in  consequence  of  her  dis- 
tress it  was  decided  to  send  Boomellen  abroad  with  a 
tutor,  with  a  view,  it  was  understood,  to  having  him 
taught  to  sow  his  wild  oats  conventionally.  Boomellen 
raised  no  objection.  So  long  as  he  Avas  not  required  to  de- 
cide for  himself,  he  was  sure  to  acquiesce  and  be  satisfied. 

He  was  close  upon  his  majority  by  this  time,  and  his 
travels  were  delayed  until  after  his  birthday  that  he  might 
receive  the  congratulations  of  his  friends,  and  the  honours 
due  to  him  as  heir  to  a  great  estate,  on  his  coming  of  age. 
The  day  itself  was  the  29th  of  October,  which  was  late  in 
the  year  for  open-air  festivities  in  that  climate,  and  it 
was  very  much  feared  that  the  preparations  would  be 
spoilt  by  the  weather,  especially  after  the  25th,  when  a 
dreadful  storm  set  in,  and  continued  to  rage  till  far  into 
the  night  of  the  28tli.  The  morning  itself  broke  brightly, 
however,  the  wind  had  abated,  but  a  terrific  sea  still  broke 
in  the  bay. 

Of  his  own  accord,  and  without  a  word  to  any  one, 
Boomellen  rose  early,  went  fasting  to  confession,  and  re- 
ceived the  sacrament  of  his  church. 


19G  BOOMELLEN. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  tenants  were  to  make  him  a 
presentation  and  read  an  address,  to  which  he  would  be 
oblio-ed  to  reply.  How  he  would  comport  himself  on  so 
momentous  an  occasion,  and,  above  all,  what  he  would 
find  to  say — if  anything — was  matter  of  serious  conjecture 
and  anxiety  to  his  friends,  several  of  whom  were  able  and 
willing  to  coach  him  well  had  he  consulted  them,  but  he 
never  mentioned  the  subject  at  all  to  any  one,  nor  would 
he  allow  any  one  else  to  approach  it.  His  father  had 
attempted  to  do  so  in  his  nervous,  fidgety  way,  but  Boom- 
ellen  simply  walked  off  without  ceremony  the  moment  he 
began. 

"  It  will  come  to  him,  dear,  it  will  come  to  him.  I 
have  full  faith,"  his  mother  piously  ejaculated.  But  no- 
body else  was  confident. 

The  ceremony  took  place  out  on  the  lawn,  on  the  west 
side  of  the  family  mansion.  Boomellen  stood  at  the  top 
of  a  broad  flight  of  shallow  stone  steps  which  led  down 
from  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  house  to  the  grass,  upon 
which  the  tenants  were  crowded  in  rows  looking  up  to  him. 
Just  behind  him  his  father  and  mother  stood,  and  behind 
them  again  was  a  goodly  array  of  the  neighbouring  gentry 
with  their  ladies  in  bright  and  becoming  costumes.  It 
was  a  gay  and  beautiful  scene  as  well  as  a  touching  and 
impressive  one.  There  w^as  a  suspicion  of  sharpness  in 
the  air,  and  the  wind,  coming  in  great  gusts  intermit- 
tently, showered  the  autumn  leaves  down  upon  the  spec- 
tators from  the  old  trees  that  sheltered  the  lawn,  and 
whirled  them  about  sportively,  while  the  sun  shone,  and 
the  odours  peculiar  to  the  season  smote  the  sense  of  smell 
agreeably.     The  sounds  were  soothing,  too.    They  seemed 


Of  TMC 

UNIYER8 

^^     -'  BOOMELLEN.  197 

to  lie  in  layers  upon  the  consciousness — first  the  sharp 
call  of  a  bird,  insistent,  incessant;  then  the  susurrus  of 
the  breeze  through  the  branches;  and  further  off,  yet 
immeasurably  more  impressive,  the  great  sea-voice, 
swelling,  lapsing,  thunderous,  murmurous,  all-pervading, 
distinct  from  the  rest  yet  somehow  including  them  all. 

Boomellen  never  looked  better  than  at  that  moment. 
His  great  personal  beauty  showed  to  perfection  as  he  stood 
there  negligently  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  the  wind 
tossing  his  thick,  glossy  brown  hair  about  picturesquely. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  the  strange  immobility  of  his 
countenance  was  affected  by  any  emotion  he  may  have  felt, 
but  there  was  a  bright,  though  rapt  expression  in  his  dark 
eyes  as  he  gazed  down  on  the  nervous  old  man  who,  stand- 
ing a  step  or  two  below  him,  made  him  the  presentation 
in  the  name  of  the  other  tenants,  and  then  proceeded  to 
read  the  address.  The  tenants  wished  to  express  their 
affection  for  Boomellen.  They  reminded  him  that  he  had 
been  born  and  bred  upon  the  estate,  and  grown  up 
amongst  them  to  the  delight  of  their  eyes  and  the  joy  of 
their  hearts.  "  It's  a  proud  woman  your  mother  must  be 
the  day,  yer  honour  " — so  ran  in  unaffoeted  sincerity  the 
simple  language  of  the  address — "  for  tliere's  neither  man 
nor  woman,  boy  nor  girl,  in  the  country  but  has  a  good 
word  for  ye,  for  ye  niver  wronged  a  sowl  in  all  yer  life, 
nor  gave  wan  any  other  than  was  their  due." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent  to  this  among  the 
tenants.  Boomellen's  mother  pressed  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes  convulsively,  and  some  fancied  that  the  rapt 
look  on  his  own  face  became  intensified. 

The  old  farmer  who  had  read  the  address  rolled  it  up 


^98  BOOMELLEN. 

as  he  concluded,  handed  it  to  Boomellen  with  a  stiff 
obeisance,  awkwardly  stumbled  down  the  steps,  and  took 
his  place  again  with  the  other  tenants.  Then  there  was  a 
pause,  and  many  hearts  began  to  beat  to  suffocation. 
Would  he  ever  be  able  to  utter  a  word  ? 

Boomellen  gazed  before  him  with  parted  lips  for  some 
seconds  before  he  attempted  to  speak,  and  all  agreed 
afterwards  that  during  the  pause  the  look  on  his  face  was 
as  of  one  who  listens  with  pleased,  though  strained  atten- 
tion. The  crisp  crackle  of  autumn  leaves,  the  rush  and 
swish  of  a  sudden  gust  through  the  branches  of  the  trees, 
and  the  sullen  roar  of  monstrous  waves  lashing  themselves 
furiously  in  ineffectual  might  against  the  rocky  barrier  of 
the  stupendous  cliffs  alone  filled  our  ears  in  the  interval, 
but  it  was  always  believed  by  the  people  that,  over  and 
above  this,  Boomellen  had  heard  what  was  not  for  us,  and 
seen  that  which  was  invisible  to  all  but  him. 

He  was  not  nervous. 

"  My  friends — ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began  at  last, 
gathering  the  words  slowly  and  with  difficulty,  but  com- 
posedly, "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  here  to-day.  I  thank  you 
for  your  kind  congratulations.  My  heart  is  touched." 
Holding  his  hat  and  the  rolled-up  address  in  front  of  him 
in  his  left  hand,  he  folded  the  right  upon  it,  and,  looking 
at  the  ground,  paused  a  minute  as  though  to  collect  his 
thoughts,  while  those  about  him,  strongly  impressed, 
broke  out  into  a  low  murmur  of  encouragement.  He 
looked  up.  "You  tell  me  that  I  am  called  to  a  high 
position,"  he  recommenced  in  the  same  slow,  difficult  way 
— "  to  honours,  which  I  should  deserve — to  riches,  which 
I  should  dispose  of  to  the  glory  of  God  and  for  the  good 


BOOMELLEN.  199 

of  mankind.  And  that  is  true — I  am  called.  It  is  not 
my  choice  to  be  here."  Again  he  paused,  but  this  time 
there  was  absolute  silence.  "  I  have — there  is  something 
— comes  into  my  mind — about " — he  raised  his  right  hand 
and  brushed  the  hair,  which  a  gust  of  wind  had  blown 
upon  his  forehead,  back  out  of  his  eyes,  then,  with  bent 
brows,  peered  out  into  the  distance  over  the  heads  of  the 
people,  as  though  trying  to  make  out  something  he  could 
not  clearly  distinguish — "  about,"  he  repeated,  exactly  as  if 
he  were  deciphering  a  difficult  handwriting — "  about  being 
taken  from  the  wrath  to  come."  A  curious  expression  of 
intentness  settled  upon  the  upturned  faces.  "  If  I  am  not 
worthy,"  Boomellen  pursued  more  fluently,  "  not  worthy 
of  my  position — if  I  am  not  equal  to  the  duties  which,  as 
you  say,  in  course  of  time  must  devolve  upon  me ;  then  I 
pray  that  I  may  be  taken  from  the  ivratli  to  come.  I 
pray  that  I  may  be  removed  before  I  lose  your  hearts — or 
— forfeit  your  good  opinion." 

Anything  more  unexpected  Boomellen  could  not  have 
uttered,  and  a  deep,  inarticulate  murmur  of  emotion  arose 
from  the  crowd,  an  unintelligible  murmur,  for  the  people 
were  at  a  loss  to  know  how  such  sentiments  should  be 
acknowledged.  A  great  uneasiness  had  gradually  taken 
possession  of  us  all.  Everybody  felt  that  there  was  some- 
thing wrong,  but  none  of  us  could  have  defined  the  feeling. 

We  held  our  breath  while  waiting  for  him  to  speak 
again. 

He  was  looking  beyond  us  now  in  the  same  strange 
way  he  had  done  at  first;  then  all  at  once,  but  quietly,  he 
put  on  his  hat  and,  raising  his  arm,  pointed  over  the  heads 
of  the  tenants,  towards  the  sea. 


200  BOOMELLEN. 

•"  There  is  a  ship  in  distress,"  he  said. 

Those  on  the  lawn  glanced  nervously  over  their  shoul- 
ders and  everybody  listened,  while  in  the  painful  silence 
that  ensued  the  tension  became  so  pronounced  that,  on 
the  sudden  booming  of  a  great  gun,  many  of  the  ladies 
shrieked. 

In  a  moment  all  order  was  over.  The  people  on  the 
lawn  broke  their  ranks,  and,  turning  from  the  house, 
made  for  the  cliffs  in  haste,  while  those  on  the  terrace 
streamed  down  the  steps,  mingled  with  the  tenants,  and 
all  together  hurried  in  confusion  in  the  same  direction. 
It  was  not  far,  but  once  out  of  the  shelter  of  the  grounds 
we  were  met  and  hindered  by  the  full  force  that  remained 
to  the  gale,  which  was  blowing  in  off  the  sea.  Petticoats 
became  unmanageable,  fluttering  ribbons  bound  their 
wearers  to  each  other  in  wild  entanglement,  hats  were 
whirled  away,  but  nobody  heeded  any  inconvenience  of 
that  kind — especially  when  we  came  within  sight  of  the 
sea,  and  stood  in  our  gay  holiday-attire,  conscious  of  the 
cruelly  incongruous  contrast  we  presented  to  the  white- 
faced,  storm-battered  wretches  on  the  wreck,  which  was 
being  driven  to  destruction  before  our  eyes — with  small 
hope  of  rescue — on  the  rocks  below.  There  was  no  life- 
boat on  the  coast  at  that  time,  and  no  other  boat  that 
would  be  likely  to  live  in  such  a  sea.  Up  at  the  coast- 
guard station,  from  whence  the  gun  had  been  fired,  rock- 
ets with  life-saving  apparatus  were  being  got  ready,  but  all 
too  slowly,  as  it  seemed  to  the  horror-stricken  spectators. 

"  Will  no  one  do  anything  ?"  Boomellen's  mother  ex- 
claimed indignantly,  wringing  her  hands.  "  Are  none  of 
you  men  enough  to  do  anything  ?  " 


BOOMELLEN.  201 

Boomellen  was  standing  beside  her,  and  she  seized  his 
arm,  as  if  to  shake  him  out  of  his  apathy,  for  he  appeared 
to  be  quite  unmoved,  although  we  we're  so  close  that  we 
could  have  recognised  the  people  on  the  ship  had  we 
known  any  of  them,  and  their  sufferings  were  terrible  to 
see — and  all  the  more  terrible  because  we  were  so  near, 
and  yet  so  powerless  to  render  them  any  assistance. 

The  wreck  was  a  large  brig.  One  mast  was  gone,  the 
other  was  hanging  over  the  side,  and  there  was  a  dead 
man  entangled  in  the  rigging.  On  deck  a  poor  woman 
was  clinging  to  a  bit  of  cordage  with  one  arm,  while  she 
held  a  baby  on  the  other.  Her  dress  was  open  at  the 
neck,  and  being  saturated,  clung  close  to  her  gaunt  figure, 
making  her  look  as  if  she  had  nothing  else  on.  Her  short 
thin  dark  hair  was  also  plastered  in  ragged  patches  about 
her  forehead  and  neck  by  the  water.  She  seemed  to  be 
shivering,  her  face  was  haggard  and  colourless,  and  she 
stared  up  at  us  with  wild  eyes,  but  her  mouth  was  firmly 
set.  The  men  beside  her  uttered  heartrending  cries  for 
help,  but  she  was  mute,  and  the  child  hung  limply  on  her 
arm  as  if  it  were  dead. 

From  among  the  mountainous  cumuli  which  fled 
across  the  sky  before  the  wind,  pitilessly  bright  sunbursts 
flashed  full  upon  the  wreck,  giant  waves  met  with  a  shock 
in  her  wake,  rose  high  in  the  air,  and  fell  with  a  thud 
upon  her,  and  great  green  foam-flecked  masses  of  treach- 
erous water  swept  her  decks  now  and  then  from  stem  to 
stern,  threatening  to  submerge  her.  About  her,  as  if  in 
ghastly  anticipation,  a  throng  of  broad-winged  sea-birds 
hovered — up  and  down,  in  and  out,  back  and  forth,  up 
and  down,    da  capo,  all  dancing  a  regular,  rhythmical. 


202  BOOMELLEN. 

mocking,  aerial  measure,  with  sharp-  shrill  cries,  to  the 
tune  of  the  winds  and  waves. 

When  the  shrieks  of  the  people  on  the  wreck  arose, 
those  on  the  clilf  responded  to  them,  and  men  and  women 
liere  and  there  threw  themselves  down  upon  their  knees, 
and  lifted  their  hands  to  heaven. 

In  the  midst  of  this  awful  scene,  a  tiny  boat  suddenly 
shot  out  from  under  the  cliif,  a  toy-tub  of  a  dinghy  not 
safe  for  an  instant  in  such  a  sea.  It  was  being  rowed  in 
a  diagonal  direction  towards  the  WTeck,  and  the  people 
on  the  cliff  with  a  groan  recognised  Boomellen.  Why  it 
should  have  occurred  to  him  alone  to  do  such  a  desperate 
thing,  those  who  had  caught  the  petulant  reproach  im- 
plied in  his  mother's  manner  never  doubted  ;  but  that  it 
was  desperate  he  did  not  seem  to  realise,  for  his  face  was 
set  serenely — rapt  as  it  had  been  when  he  had  stood  in 
safety,  seeming  to  listen,  on  the  steps  of  his  father's 
house  half  an  hour  before.  His  hat  had  gone,  and  the 
wind  tumbled  his  hair.  As  he  shot  out  from  under  the 
cliff,  he  looked  up  at  us  all  with 

"...  such  a  brightness  in  his  eye ! 
As  if  the  ocean  and  the  sky- 
Within  him  had  lit  up  and  nurst 
A  soul  God  gave  him  not  at  first, 
To  comprehend  their  majesty." 

W^e  could  not  see  where  the  waves  broke  beneath  us  for 
the  shelving  of  the  cliff,  but  from  time  to  time  a  shower 
of  blinding  white  spray  rose  high  in  the  air  above  us,  a 
lace-like  veil  of  foam,  concealing  the  sea,  and  falling  back 
upon  us  in  heavy  showers.     This  occurred  almost  immedi- 


BOOMELLEN.  203 

ately  after  Boomellen  appeared.  Holding  our  breath 
in  an  agony  of  suspense,  we  saw  him  for  one  moment, 
then  came  the  blinding  spray,  but  when  we  looked  again 
he  was  gone.  He  had  vanished  for  ever,  and  as  utterly  as 
if  he  had  never  been. 

Ineffectual  life,  ineffectual  death  ;  but  perhaps  it  was 
appropriate  that  the  shining  sea  should  take  him. 


14 


KANE,   A   SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

His  real  name  was  Keene,  but  Cain  he  mispronounced 
it,  being  of  Irish  blood  ;  and  Society,  reluctant  to  brand 
him  with  the  accursed  appellation  of  Adam's  eldest  son, 
compromised  the  matter  by  spelling  it  Kane.  And  Kane 
he  remained  to  us  all  till  the  end  of  the  chapter. 

He  was  a  reprobate,  and  he  looked  old,  but  was  in 
point  of  fact  not  so  well  up  in  years  as  he  was  in  wicked 
ways,  being  only  about  forty  when  he  came  to  us.  He 
had  served  in  the  tropics  for  many  years,  and  had  had  a 
hard  life  in  other  aspects  both  in  and  out  of  the  service, 
and  that  had  aged  him. 

He  was  a  short  man,  narrow-chested  for  a  soldier, 
*'  bad  on  his  feet  " — rather  hobbling  in  his  gait,  as  if  his 
ammunition  boots  hurt  him.  His  mouth  was  large  and 
straight,  a  mere  gash,  hidden  by  a  heavy  moustache. 
His  nose  was  broad  at  the  nostrils,  his  eyes  small,  bright, 
"  peery,"  and  quick-glancing,  but  expressionless,  and  set 
so  deep  in  their  sockets  and  so  shaded  by  bushy  eyebrows 
that  their  vivacity  was  not  striking.  His  hair,  innocent 
of  parting,  stood  up  on  end  all  round  his  forehead,  which 
was  low,  as  it  does  in  some  monkeys.  It  was  grey,  and 
abundant.  So  also  were  his  moustache  and  whiskers. 
The  latter  he  chose  to  wear  Dundreary  fashion,  although 


KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT.  205 

contrary  to  regulation,  and  the  consequence  was  a  stand- 
ing order  to  shave,  whicli  order  Kane,  met  by  a  standing 
objection  to  do  so.  At  first,  under  compulsion,  that  is  to 
say  in  the  presence  of  a  non-commissioned  officer  told  ofT 
to  see  the  duty  done,  Kane  had  been  compelled  to  dock 
his  beloved  whiskers.  He  would  look  ashamed  of  him- 
self, and  exhibit  symptoms  of  mental  depression  for  some 
time  afterwards,  but  would  appear  eventually  with  his 
whiskers  as  big  as  ever,  and  an  air  of  mild  triumph  not  to 
be  concealed.  And  this  happened  so  often  that  at  last 
none  but  new-comers  ever  thought  of  interfering  with  his 
whiskers — or,  indeed,  of  interfering  with  him  at  all.  For 
Kane  was  a  privileged  person.  He  was  always  being 
humoured  and  let  off,  and  had  managed  by  dint  of  perse- 
verance to  get  his  own  way  in  everything.  But  whether 
his  persistence  was  due  to  obtuseness  or  to  force  of  charac- 
ter, I  cannot  say.  Only  his  position  at  the  depot  was 
unique,  and  he  had  made  it  for  himself  somehow.  One 
day  a  newly  appointed  commanding  officer  held  a  kit  in- 
spection. All  the  men's  clothing  had  to  be  laid  out  neatly 
on  their  beds,  and  of  course  our  own  Kane's  with  the  rest. 
His  things  appeared  to  be  in  good  order,  especially  the 
socks,  which  were  folded  to  perfection,  with  the  long  welts 
uppermost.  Kane  stood  to  attention  beside  the  bed,  with 
a  face  as  impassive  as  that  of  an  ape  in  mischief.  The 
Colonel  seemed  satisfied  and  was  passing  on,  when,  as  ill 
luck  would  have  it,  somebody  stopped  him  with  a  word. 
He  paused  to  reply,  absently  turning  the  socks  over  with 
his  swaggerstick  as  he  spoke,  and  finally  picking  one  up 
on  the  point  of  it.  The  welt  was  whole,  but  the  rest  of 
the  sock,  alas !  dropi)ed  into  what  looked  like  an  elaborate 


206  RANK,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

pattern  in  woollen  lace.  The  trick  caused  some  amuse- 
ment, but  it  also  called  the  Colonel's  attention  to  Kane 
himself,  and  he  asked  who  that  shambling  old  fellow  was. 
Kane  was  a  time-expired  man,  who  ought  to  have  been 
retired  long  before,  and  was  only  kept  on  by  the  conniv- 
ance of  everybody — at  least  of  all  who  knew  him  ;  and 
there  was  always  a  chance  of  our  losing  him  in  the  event 
of  a  commanding  officer  coming  who  knew  him  not,  and 
sending  him  about  his  business  before  he  had  the  pleasure 
of  making  his  acquaintance.  The  evil  day  was  deferred, 
however,  on  this  occasion  by  the  timely  tact  of  the  Adju- 
tant, and  afterwards,  when  the  Colonel  himself  was  heard 
to  speak  of  Kane  as  "  old  heel-and-toe,"  we  knew  he 
was  safe  for  a  while.  He  could  not  have  marched  a 
mile  or  carried  a  rifle  to  save  his  life,  and  had  therefore 
to  be  returned  in  some  capacity  w^hich  would  get  him  ex- 
cused from  drill,  and,  accordingly,  before  he  became  a 
soldier-servant,  he  was  attached  to  the  hospital,  and  slept 
there.  On  arriving  at  the  depot,  his  master  lived  in  bar- 
racks for  a  short  time,  and,  trained  servants  being  scarce, 
Kane  was  appointed  to  wait  on  him  as  a  temporary  ar- 
rangement, but  continued  to  sleep  in  hospital.  He  had 
never  been  an  officer's  servant  before,  but  it  was  thought 
that  his  honesty  would  make  up  for  his  ignorance  ;  and 
the  latter  was  not  such  a  great  inconvenience  after  all,  as 
he  soon  learnt  from  the  other  servants  what  was  required 
of  him.  In  this  new  billet  he  was  also  exempt  from  mar- 
tial duties. 

He  proved  himself  from  the  first  to  be  the  most  me- 
thodical old  machine  on  earth.  Having  set  himself  to 
perform  a  duty  at  a  certain  time  nothing  short  of  physical 


KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT.  207 

force  would  prevent  him.  Lighting  the  fire  in  the  morn- 
ing was  the  first  difficulty.  It  was  very  cold  weather,  and 
Kane  chose  to  light  it  at  an  inconveniently  early  hour, 
and  would  come  clattering  down  the  bare  passages  in  his 
heavy  ammunition  boots  before  daylight,  humming  like  a 
steam  saw.  He  hummed  always,  whatever  he  might  be 
doing  and  wherever  he  might  be,  keeping  up  a  sort  of 
buzz  on  and  about  one  note,  scarcely  ever  as  much  as  a 
semitone  above  or  below,  and  this,  together  with  his  pe- 
culiar step,  woke  everybody,  and  many  were  the  boots  and 
blessings  showered  upon  him  by  the  young  officers,  and 
much  was  he  remonstrated  with  about  the  early  hours  he 
kept,  but  arguments  of  all  kinds  were  unavailing.  His 
master  ordered  him  to  come  later,  and  he  answered  "  Yes, 
sorr,"  respectfully,  but  appeared  next  day  as  usual.  The 
order  was  repeated,  but  the  result  was  the  same.  When 
asked  what  he  meant  by  coming  so  early,  he  would  meek- 
ly hold  his  peace,  but  would  look  at  the  clock  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  his  master  doubt  if  he  had  not  inadvert- 
ently mentioned  that  time,  and  the  result  would  be  a  low- 
ering of  the  master's  tone,  and  the  eventual  triumph  of 
the  man. 

"When  we,  "  the  family,"  arrived,  Kane  kindly  came  to 
help  us  to  settle,  and  I  made  his  acquaintance  among  the 
packing  cases.  I  was  in  tlie  front  kitchen,  and,  hearing 
a  curious,  monotonous  humming,  I  looked  about  to  see 
whence  it  came.  At  first  nothing  was  visible  but  a  big 
box  in  the  back  kitchen  and  a  stack  of  straw  ;  but  on 
peering  over  this  I  caught  the  blaze  of  a  scarlet  coat,  and 
there  was  old  Kane  on  his  knees,  his  bushy  grey  whiskers 
all  powdered  with  sawdust,  unpacking  some  Oriental  china 


208  KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

with  a  loving  touch  that  won  my  heart.  He  was  too  ab- 
sorbed to  notice  me,  but  that  does  not  mean  that  he  was 
working  hard.  He  was  merely  interested  in  some  good 
specimens  of  an  art  entirely  new  to  him.  He  took  each 
plate  up  tenderly  and  admired  it  on  all  sides,  and  then 
laid  it  on  the  ground  and  looked  at  it  from  a  distance 
with  a  pleased  expression  of  countenance  ;  and  all  the 
time  he  kept  up  a  hum  as  incessant  as  the  babble  of  a 
brook. 

He  had  come  to  help  us  also  as  a  temporary  arrange- 
ment. As  a  servant  he  was  practically  useless.  The  no- 
tion of  Kane  with  his  curious  feet,  in  livery,  or  Kane 
with  his  bushy  whiskers  waiting  at  table,  was  ridiculous ; 
but  before  he  had  been  a  week  in  the  house  he  had  cast 
his  spell  upon  us.  A  sense  of  humour  is  in  the  family ; 
he  amused  us ;  and  so  we  kept  him — and  got  a  maid  to 
do  his  work. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  he  did  absolutely 
nothing.  He  took  a  certain  amount  on  himself  when 
he  first  came,  and  did  that  amount  with  the  regularity  of 
clockwork,  but  neither  more  nor  less,  however  much  he 
might  be  begged,  prayed,  conciliated,  threatened,  com- 
manded, or  caressed.  In  the  early  morning  he  brushed 
boots,  polished  some  brass-work  about  the  front  door, 
rubbed  up  his  master's  spurs  and  spur-chains,  and  brushed 
his  coats  and  hats.  The  latter  he  did  with  an  energy  and 
frequency  that  destroyed  the  nap  very  early  in  their  ex- 
istence. He  must  have  found  something  morally  elevat- 
ing in  the  brushing  of  hats,  for  if  he  happened  to  be  in 
a  more  than  usually  conscientious  mood,  he  returned  to 
them  and  did  them  again.     The  overcoats  he  brushed  as 


KAXE,  A   SOLDIER  SERVANT.  209 

they  hung  from  the  pegs  as  if  he  were  grooming  a  horse 
— bahincing  himself  against  them  with  his  left  hand,  cur- 
rycombing  with  his  right,  and  looking  out  sharply  as  if 
it  were  for  a  kick,  while  he  kept  up  that  buzzing  noise 
through  his  puffed -out  lips,  which  seems  to  be  indispen- 
sable in  the  grooming  of  a  horse. 

In  the  afternoon  he  cleaned  the  knives  and  plate,  and 
smoked  a  pipe  ;  and  I  think  that  was  all  he  did  do.  He 
also  fed  the  birds  and  cats,  but  that  was  in  the  morning 
before  breakfast.  The  cats  he  did  not  like,  but  as  they 
were  members  of  the  family  he  was  always  polite  to  them. 
For  Kane  was  loyal  before  everything. 

His  attachment  to  the  youngest  of  our  party,  a  little 
golden-haired  boy  of  six,  was  dog-like  in  its  dumb  fidelity. 
They  were  always  together  if  Kane  could  manage  it,  and 
he  never  objected  to  anything  he  had  to  do  for  the  child. 
He  would  grub  about  in  the  ditches  for  monsters  to  put 
in  his  aquarium,  and  bring  buckets  of  water  of  his  own 
accord  for  it ;  and  he  would  even  carry  parcels  up  from 
the  town  for  the  boy,  although  it  is  against  orders  for  a 
soldier  to  be  seen  carrying  a  parcel,  and  is  the  thing  of  all 
others  that  they  most  dislike  to  have  to  do.  They  were  a 
curious  pair,  the  bright  intelligent  child  with  his  babble 
of  innocent  talk  and  laughter,  and  the  wreck  of  a  man, 
vice-worn,  silent,  and  subdued.  What  passed  through 
his  "dim,  dreaming  consciousness"  as  he  listened  to  the 
boy  was  often  a  subject  of  speculation,  but  Kane  could 
not  have  expressed  it  himself.  He  had  not  even  been 
taught  to  read  and  write ;  every  intellectual  faculty  was 
dormant ;  probably  his  command  of  language  was  limited 
to  the  fewest  possible  number  of  words ;  his  powers  of 


210  KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

comprehension  were  purely  emotional ;  it  was  through  his 
senses  that  his  brain  was  reached ;  but  he  did  feel,  I  am 
sure  of  that.  Things  beautiful  delighted  him  as  they  do 
a  child,  he  appreciated  without  understanding  them,  and 
they  made  him  "  feel  nice,"  as  his  little  master  used  to 
express  it — "  Oh,  mamma,  do  sing  that  song  again  !  It 
makes  me  feel  so  nice  !  " 

It  was  curious  though  to  mark  Kane's  limitations. 
Certain  things  which  delighted  us  had  no  power  whatever 
to  move  him,  the  songs  of  birds  for  instance.  He  knew 
that  I  enjoyed  them.  I  brought  up  a  thrush  by  hand  one 
summer,  and  waited  eagerly  to  hear  him  sing.  He  made 
no  attempt  for  a  long  time,  but  at  last  one  morning, 
when  I  was  not  thinking  of  him,  I  was  disturbed  by  a 
noise  which  sounded  like  a  cork  being  rubbed  on  a  win- 
dow-pane, and  Kane  came  hobbling  in,  the  bearer  of 
good  news  evidently.  "  Ma'am  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  will  ye 
haarrk  to  the  meelodious  throosh  ? "  One  noise  from  a 
bird's  throat  was  as  pleasant  as  another  to  poor  Kane. 

Kane's  strong  point  was  his  honesty,  his  weak  point 
an  amorous  disposition.  To  be  good  looking  was  in 
Kane's  estimation  to  be  virtuous,  and  he  was  consequent- 
ly at  the  mercy  of  every  worthless  creature  wearing  a 
petticoat  who  chose  to  smile  upon  him.  On  one  occasion, 
while  he  was  with  us,  he  stayed  absent  without  leave,  and, 
on  being  sought,  was  found  in  a  small  public-house  with 
fourteen  damsels,  treating  them  all. 

There  was  some  depth,  doubtless,  in  this  poor  man 
which  we  never  plumbed,  some  power  to  care  beneath 
that  surface  of  quaint  ways.  But  it  was  a  curious,  lonely 
life  he  led,  such  a  life  as  would  have  driven  most  men 


KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT.  211 

mad.  As  he  could  not  read,  he  had  no  resources  in  him- 
self, and  his  pipe  was  his  only  solace  at  idle  times.  In 
the  afternoon  when  he  returned  to  Barracks,  his  day's 
work  was  practically  done.  lie  left  our  house  between 
three  and  four,  and  did  not  reappear  until  seven  next 
morning:  and  usually  spent  the  interval  in  sleep.  He 
had  no  relations  that  I  ever  heard  of,  and  made  no 
friends.  There  was  another  prematurely  old  reprobate, 
very  like  him  in  appearance,  who  was  said  to  be  his 
"chum,"  but  I  do  not  know  upon  what  authority,  as 
they  were  never  seen  together.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
singular  resemblance  which  made  the  men  say  first  of  all, 
that  they  ought  to  be  "  chums,"  and  afterwards  drift 
into  the  habit  of  thinking  that  they  were.  They  were 
men  of  kindred  vices,  which  is  always  a  bond  of  union, 
and  of  the  same  standing  in  the  service,  having  been  re- 
cruits together ;  but  still  I  do  not  believe  that  they  were 
friends,  and  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  Kane  never  really 
had  a  friend.  The  other  men  tried  "  to  chum  "  with  him, 
but  he  repelled  them  all,  and  went  his  own  solitary  way, 
silent  and  uncomplaining.  I  was  going  to  say  unobserv- 
ant too,  but  those  deep-sunk  eyes  of  his  looked  out  from 
under  his  bushy  brows  at  times,  and  sparkled  in  a  way 
tliat,  taken  with  a  slight  quivering  of  the  lips  under  his 
moustache,  betrayed  some  change  of  expression  disguised 
by  that  crinose  mask,  which  suggested  a  doubt  on  the 
subject.  But  at  any  rate  there  must  have  been  a  time 
when  even  Kane  was  young  and  ardent,  full  of  pride  and 
pleasure  in  the  present,  and  plan  and  purpose  for  the 
future ;  a  love-time  when  the  ignorant  private  soldier 
had   felt   himself   for  the  moment  "equal  to  the  god." 


212  KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

We  never  heard  the  details  of  the  story.  All  of  it  that 
we  do  know,  is  what  every  raw  recruit  was  told  when  he 
came  to  the  barracks.  "  Do  you  see  that  old  fellow  there? 
Well,  he  cut  his  throat  once."  "  What  for  ?  "  "  'Cos  he 
was  a  fool."  "  But  why  was  he  a  fool  ? "  "  Oh,  some- 
thing about  his  young  woman.  They  didn't  hit  it  off. 
Deserted  him  or  something.  At  any  rate,  he  cut  his 
throat."  "And  he  didn't  die?"  "Why  no,  ye  idiot! 
how  could  he  be  there  if  he'd  died?"  And  how,  one 
wonders,  after  feeling  strongly  enough  to  do  such  a  deed, 
did  he  drift  into  such  passivity,  taking  no  thought  for  the 
morrow,  nor  for  anything  else  apparently  ? 

But,  although  the  apathetic  state  in  which  we  found 
him  had  become  his  normal  condition,  he  had  his  moods 
like  other  men,  and  would  break  out  occasionally — break 
out  of  barracks  and  disappear  for  two  or  three  days  at  a 
time.  On  his  return  he  would  be  made  prisoner  for  be- 
ing absent  without  leave,  and  let  of  as  a  rule  with  a  fine. 
Then  he  would  return  to  us,  slink  into  the  back  kitchen, 
looking  very  much  ashamed  of  himself,  and  behave  as 
usual  till  the  next  time.  We  were  very  much  troubled 
about  these  drunken  bouts  of  his,  but  the  difficulty  was  to 
know  what  to  do.  Should  he  be  sent  to  his  duty  if  it  oc- 
curred again?  Surely  not,  for  in  that  case  he  would  be 
discharged  from  the  service,  and  then  what  would  become 
of  him?  But  wasn't  he  a  Eoman  Catholic?  Why  not 
try  the  priest?  There  was  one  in  the  town  at  the  time, 
of  whom  we  knew  something,  and  as  a  forlorn  hope  Kane 
was  sent  to  him  one  morning  with  a  note,  detailing  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  and  begging  him  to  use  his  in- 
fluence to  induce  Kane  to  take  the  pledge.    The  latter,  not 


KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT.  213 

knowing  the  object  of  the  visit,  was  surprised  into  com- 
pliance. The  priest  only  induced  him  to  take  it  for  tliree 
months,  thinking  it  not  wise  to  dishearten  him  by  trying 
his  fortitude  for  too  long  a  period  to  begin  with.  And 
Kane  kept  the  pledge  religiously  to  the  day,  and  then  he 
"  went  on  the  spree."  He  certainly  did  "  go  on  the 
spree."  He  must  have  been  looking  forward  to  that 
"  spree,"  and  thinking  of  little  else  during  the  whole  three 
months.  When  he  returned  he  was  still  suffering  from 
the  effects  thereof,  and,  taking  advantage  of  the  conse- 
quent depression,  we  sent  him  again  to  the  priest,  and 
again  he  took  the  pledge  for  three  months,  kept  it,  doubt- 
less enjoying  the  novelty  of  having  something  to  look  for- 
ward to  the  while  ;  and  then  he  had  his  "  spree."  And 
this  happened  regularly  for  two  years,  during  which  time 
we  had  nothing  but  his  periodical  absences  to  complain  of, 
as  he  never  came  to  the  house  drunk.  But  about  the  end 
of  the  second  year,  the  other  servants  began  to  find  fault 
with  him.  They  said  he  did  nothing,  and  made  himself 
objectionable,  and  they  would  rather  do  his  work  than 
have  him  about. 

We  did  not  listen  to  these  hints  for  some  time,  think- 
ing the  real  truth  was  that  a  younger  and  smarter  man 
would  please  the  maids  better;  but,  unfortunately  for 
Kane,  he  broke  through  his  rule  at  Christmas,  and  came 
to  the  house  one  day  the  worse  for  drink.  He  had  a  black 
eye,  too,  which  he  said  was  caused  by  a  splinter  that  flew 
in  his  face,  when  he  was  chopping  firewood.  The  fault 
was  overlooked  on  that  occasion,  it  being  Christmas  time, 
and  every  temptation  having  been  put  in  the  poor  man's 
way.     But  it  happened  again  a  short  time  afterwards,  and 


2U  KANE,  A   SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

what  with  that  and  the  other  servants'  complaints,  we 
felt  we  must  get  rid  of  him. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  why  we  were  all  so  attached 
to  this  old  good-for-nothing,  but  of  all  the  household  re- 
tainers we  have  had  to  part  with,  I  think  he  was  the  one 
about  whom  we  felt  heaviest-hearted  when  it  came  to  the 
point.  The  quality  of  faithfulness  which  we  had  discerned 
in  him  from  the  first  was,  perhaps,  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
He  was  a  worthless  old  dog,  but  he  was  our  own  old  dog, 
and  for  that  we  valued  him.  That  he  felt  as  much  as  we 
did  about  it  I  cannot  say,  for  he  made  no  sign,  but  just 
plodded  on  in  his  old  way  to  the  last,  and  then  stumped 
out,  without  a  word  to  any  of  us.  One  day,  he  came  and 
did  his  work  as  usual,  but  he  did  not  return  on  the  next. 
That  was  all.  We  shall  not  forget  him,  however.  His 
accustomed  place  is  still  empty,  and  wijl  not  again  be 
filled. 

I  have  thought  since  he  left  us,  that  his  apparent  in- 
difference was  entirely  due  to  a  certain  shyness,  the  kind 
of  shyness  which  makes  a  sensitive  child  dumb.  He  had 
no  power  of  expression,  and  was  shamefaced ;  but  he 
must  have  felt.  He  left  the  barracks,  however,  when  he 
was  discharged  from  the  service  a  short  time  afterwards, 
as  he  had  left  us,  without  a  word  ;  and  from  the  day  of 
his  departure  nobody  ever  saw  him  there  again.  He  had 
considerably  over  twenty  years'  service,  and  most  men 
would  have  gone  back  to  talk  over  old  times,  but  not  so 
Kane  ;  nor  did  he  leave  any  address  behind  him,  so  that 
nobody  at  the  depot  ever  heard  anything  about  him  after 
he  took  his  discharge.  There  had  been  a  rumour  for 
some  time  before  he  left  us,  that  he  was  "  keeping  com- 


KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT.  215 

pany  with  a  young  woman,"  which  meant  a  serious  en- 
gagement, but  the  notion  seemed  so. preposterous  we  took 
no  notice  of  it,  thinking  it  was  chaff.  Then  it  was  said 
that  the  "  young  woman  "  was  not  young  at  all,  but  an 
elderly  widow  with  five  children,  and  this  news  struck  us 
as  even  more  objectionable  than  the  other,  for  we  all 
imagined  a  big  coarse  woman  with  red  arms,  a  perfect 
termagant  in  fact,  for  whom  poor  old  Kane,  who  was 
quite  decrepit,  would  be  no  match.  The  idea  of  Kane  in 
love  was  ridiculous,  but  the  idea  of  Kane  in  bondage  was 
not  to  be  tolerated,  so  we  dismissed  it.  AVe  felt  he  was 
one  of  those  characters  round  whom  the  myth  and  story 
collect  inevitably  after  their  disappearance,  and  were  pre- 
pared to  accept  all  that  might  be  said  of  him  in  future 
with  caution. 

It  was  months  after  his  departure  before  we  heard 
anything  definite  about  him,  and  then  one  of  the  boys 
burst  in  upon  us  suddenly  with  the  startling  news  that 
Kane  had  gone  on  the  stage  !  We  received  the  announce- 
ment with  derision,  but  there  was  some  truth  in  it  after 
all.  A  circus  had  been  settled  in  the  place  for  some  time, 
and  Kane  was  employed  there  to  carry  a  flag  in  a  proces- 
sion at  a  shilling  a  night.  This  was  the  first  positive 
news  we  had  had  of  him,  but  soon  afterwards  I  met  him 
in  the  street.  He  was  dressed  in  blue  serge  like  a  work- 
ing man  in  his  best  things,  but  looked  more  soldier-like 
than  he  had  done  in  uniform.  I  stopped  to  speak  to 
him. 

"  And  is  it  true  that  you  are  married,  Kane  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 


216  KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  and  see  your  wife  if  I  may. 
Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

lie  at  once  gave  me  an  address;  but  Mrs.  Kane  did 
not  live  there,  and  no  one  in  that  neighbourhood  had  ever 
heard  of  such  people. 

Conchiding  that  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  mislead- 
ing me,  we  determined  to  respect  them,  and  accordingly 
made  no  further  enquiries.  The  next  news  we  had  of  him 
was  equally  startling,  but  in  another  way.  We  were  told 
that  Kane  was  in  prison  for  neglecting  to  maintain  his 
wife  and  step-children.  AVe  doubted  this,  however,  for 
we  learnt  at  the  same  time  that  his  wife  was  a  fustian 
cutter,  and  as  work  was  plentiful  just  then  she  could  not 
be  in  absolute  want.  We  meant  to  make  proper  enquiries, 
however,  but  delayed  for  some  reason  or  other,  and  the 
next  thing  we  heard  of  him  was  the  sad  news  that  he  had 
committed  suicide.  It  was  said  that  he  had  hanged  him- 
self because  of  his  wife's  misconduct.  We  blamed  our- 
selves then  for  not  doing  more  for  him  in  spite  of  himself, 
and  had  rather  a  lively  discussion  on  the  subject  one  even- 
ing, half  our  party  maintaining  that  since  he  chose  to 
sever  the  connection  we  were  not  at  all  bound  to  look 
after  him,  while  the  rest  retorted  that  as  we  were  attached 
to  him  we  were  bound  to  look  after  him,  attachment  being 
a  bond  which  carries  obligation  as  well  as  pleasure.  In 
the  midst  of  the  discussion  the  Colonel  came  in.  "  Is  it 
Kane  you  are  bothering  about?"  he  said.  "The  old 
scoundrel !  I  saw  him  in  the  town  just  now,  selling 
sticks." 

For  the  next  two  years  we  heard  nothing  more  of 
him.     During  the  winter  of  the  second  year  the  Lanca- 


KANE,  A   SOLDIER  SERVANT.  917 

sliire  operatives  suffered  terribly  from  the  prevalent  com- 
mercial depression,  and  consequent  want  of  work.  Soup 
kitchens,  and  clothing  clubs,  and  every  other  effort 
known  to  the  charitable,  was  being  made  to  prevent 
starvation  and  relieve  distress,  but  numbers  of  the  people 
died  nevertheless,  and  quite  a  third  of  the  population 
tramped  away  to  other  places  in  search  of  work  ;  and  as 
we  heard  nothing  of  Kane  we  thought  it  likely  that  he 
had  drifted  away  with  the  rest.  One  day,  however,  I  was 
told  that  a  poor  woman  wanted  to  see  me.  This  was  an 
hourly  occurrence,  and  we  were  all  more  or  less  worn  with 
the  constant  strain.  She  was  a  delicate-looking  woman, 
poorly,  but  cleanly  clad,  with  a  sweet  and  patient  face. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  she  said,  "  but  will  ye 
plaze  come  to  see  me  husband  ?  Shure  he's  dying,  he  is. 
He  wouldn't  let  me  come  to  ask  ye  for  nawthing,  but, 
now  he's  going,  he'd  like  to  spake  wid  ye,  if  ye'd  be  so 
good." 

"  Who  is  your  husband  ?  "  I  asked. 

«  Kane  !  " 

She  led  me  up  a  narrow  stair  into  a  large,  light  garret, 
a  poor  place,  furnished  with  a  chair  and  table  and  box  or 
two,  but  little  else. 

On  the  floor  in  the  corner  nearest  to  the  scrap  of  Are 
was  a  straw  mattress  covered  with  canvas,  and  on  this  the 
old,  worn  soldier  lay,  partially  dressed,  and  propped  with 
a  pillow  made  of  a  sack  stuffed  with  straw  and  covered 
with  an  old  rug.  His  wife  took  off  her  shred  of  a  shawl 
and  spread  it  over  his  feet,  which  were  bare.  He  was  evi- 
dently dying,  but  the  bushy  beard  which  he  had  grown 
since  I  saw  him  lust  was  neatly  trimmed,  so  also  was  his 


218  KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

liair,  and  tliere  was  a  general  air  of  cleanliness  about  him, 
as  of  discipline  and  order  successfully  struggling  to  the 
last  with  poverty  and  death. 

He  brought  his  thin  right  hand  to  his  forehead  when 
I  entered,  and  tried  to  look  impassive  as  the  men  do  when 
tliey  salute  their  officers,  but  he  was  too  weak  to  conceal 
the  gleam  of  satisfaction  that  lit  his  haggard  countenance 
on  seeing  me. 

There  was  a  little  box  near  the  bed,  and  I  sat  down 
upon  that.  The  snow  was  falling  softly  outside,  and 
Kane  was  very  cold,  but  fortunately  we  knew  only  too 
well  what  would  be  wanted  when  we  were  sent  for  in 
those  days,  and  a  servant  had  followed  me  w^ith  food  and 
fuel  and  wine  and  warm  blankets.  When  I  covered  Kane 
up  with  the  latter,  he  patted  them  with  a  pleased  ex- 
pression, and  then  hid  his  poor  benumbed  hands  beneath 
them,  glad  of  the  grateful  warmth.  His  wife  resumed  her 
thin  shawl,  and  stood  in  apathetic  silence,  watching  the 
servant  making  up  the  fire.  I  gave  her  some  wine,  and 
then  she  sat  down,  staring  stupidly  before  her,  while 
great  tears  fell  at  intervals  unheeded  on  her  folded  hands. 

"  Oh,  Kane ! "  I  said,  "  why  didn't  you  send  for  me 
sooner  ?  " 

The  woman  roused  herself  upon  that,  and  answered 
for  him. 

"  He  wouldn't,  ma'am,  because  we  wasn't  married — 
leastways,  not  as  you  would  like.  I  had  another  husband, 
and  he  bate  me,  and  he  bate  the  children,  and  he  took 
every  penny  I  earned,  and  spent  it  on  dhrink ;  and  Kane 
ses,  ses  he,  '  Mary,'  ses  he,  '  if  you'll  marry  me,  I'll  pertect 
ye,'  says  he,  and  I  couldn't  because  of  the  other  mon. 


KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT.  219 

But  he  went  away,  and  it  was  a  hard  battle  to  keep  the 
childer,  but  I  did  it,  and  got  a  little  home  about  me,  an 
had  a  shilling  in  mo  pocket,  and  me  close  daccnt,  and  the 
childer  nate  and  clane ;  and  then  he  come  back  and  bate 
me  again,  and  druv  the  childer  out  into  the  street,  and 
used  language  such  as  niver  was,  and  sould  all  me  things 
for  the  dhrink,  and  Kane  ses,  ses  he,  '  Mary,'  ses  he,  '  don't 
ye  be  afther  standing  it,'  ses  he.  *  Hev  him  up,  and  the 
magistrate  '11  separate  ye,  and  thin  ye  can  marry  me,'  ses 
he.  '  I've  got  me  pension,  and  you  and  the  childer  shan't 
starve,  whatever  comes,'  ses  he.  So  I  had  him  up,  and 
the  magistrate  separated  us,  and  gave  him  six  months; 
but  the  praste  wouldn't  marry  me  and  Kane.  He  said  I 
was  still  me  other  husband's  wife,  but  Kane  wouldn't 
belave  it  after  all  the  magistrate  had  said  about  granting 
a  separation ;  so  we  went  to  the  Registry,  and  Kane  tould 
him  I  hadn't  a  husband,  and  he  married  us  his  way.  And 
Kane  kep'  his  worrd  by  me  and  the  childer,  he  did,  true 
for  ye,  ma'am.  But  the  bad  times  cam',  and  I  could  get 
no  worrk,  neither  could  he,  and  what  was  his  pension, 
ma'am?  a  shilling  a  day,  and  three  of  them  a  week  for 
lodgings,  and  five  childer  to  keep.  And  I  wanted  him  to 
go  to  you,  and  he  wouldn't,  because  why,  he  ses,  ses  he, 
we  wasn't  married  as  you  would  like.  And  Kane  got 
waker  and  waker  wi'  givin'  his  bread  to  the  childer ;  and 
thin,  ma'am,  me  firrst  husband  cam  back,  and  they  had  a 
set-to,  and  Kane  got  the  worrst  of  it,  and  he's  laid  there 
iver  since,  three  months.  And  I  wanted  to  go  to  you,  and 
he  wouldn't  let  me,  because,  he  ses,  ses  he,  we  wasn't  mar- 
ried as  you  would  like.  But  me  firrst  husband  was  killed 
last  week,  ma'am,  in  a  street  row,  and  then  Kane  ses  to  me, 
15 


220  KANE,  A  SOLDIER  SERVANT. 

ses  he,  *  Fetch  the  praste,  Mary,'  ses  he.  And  the  praste 
cam'  this  morning,  and  we  was  marrid  again,  and  then 
Kane  ses,  *  Mary,'  ses  he,  *  go  for  the  missus  now.'  So  I 
cam'." 

Too  late.  Three  days  afterwards  I  covered  the  straw 
mattress  with  flowers,  the  best  to  be  had  for  love  or  money, 
and  stood  looking  down  at  the  quiet  face,  pinched  from 
privation,  but  placid,  with  the  look  of  content  upon  it 
which  it  had  worn  from  the  moment  I  entered  his  room. 

Poor  Kane ! — poor  ignorant  Kane  !  immoral  old  Irish 
reprobate,  liar,  drunkard,  inciter  to  bigamy,  would-be 
suicide — dead  for  want  of  the  bread  he  had  given  to  his 
rival's  children,  dead  defending  them  and  the  woman  he 
loved — faithful,  honest,  uncomplaining,  considerate  to  the 
last ;  his  poor,  decrepit  body  gone  to  its  hard-earned  rest, 
but  the  chivalrous  soul  so  long  concealed  from  the  world 
that  wants  words,  ah !  where  in  Heaven's  justice  will  it  be 
when  opportunities  are  considered,  virtues  weighed  against 
vices,  and  the  award  of  merit  meted  out  to  prince  and 
private  alike  by  the  power  which  is  no  respecter  of  persons  ? 


AH  MAN. 

A  HOUSE  managed  by  Chinese  servants  works  as  if  it 
were  subject  to  natural  law  which  is  inevitable  rather  than 
to  human  discipline  that  can  be  evaded.  If  you  dismiss 
your  butler  at  breakfast,  his  substitute  will  stand  behind 
your  chair  at  lunch,  and  go  about  his  business  from  the 
moment  he  arrives  as  if  he  had  been  in  your  service  all 
his  life.  Once  let  him  know  your  wishes,  and  everything 
will  be  arranged  to  suit  them  ;  but  woe  be  to  you  if  you 
are  not  a  person  of  regular  habits,  for  his  motive  power  is 
a  kind  of  clockwork  which  resents  interference,  and  if 
you  would  put  him  back  or  hurry  him  on  the  probability 
is  he  will  stop  or  break  up  altogether — at  least,  this  is  the 
view  of  him  that  is  generally  accepted.  Ordinary  Euro- 
peans who  come  in  contact  with  him  never  seem  to  sus- 
pect that  a  servant  so  methodical  can  be  anything  but  a 
machine.  What  precisely  the  human  nature  of  him  is  in 
detail,  wherein  exactly  he  resembles  or  differs  from  us, 
opportunities  never  enabled  me  to  decide  ;  but  once  there 
came  under  my  observation  a  profoundly  interesting  speci- 
men, interesting  as  an  enigma,  the  solution  to  which  I 
seem  to  see,  although  I  cannot  find  a  formula  in  which  to 
express  it. 

Our  butler  had  deen  dismissed   in   the  morning;  and 


222  All   MAN. 

in  the  afternoon  I  was  sitting  alone  upstairs  in  the  veran- 
dali  overlooking  a  grove  of  mango  trees,  the  heavy  foliage 
of  which  formed  a  screen  between  me  and  inquisitive 
amahs  and  coolies  who  might  be  loitering  in  the  road  be- 
low. The  fruit  shone  ochre  against  the  green  in  the 
cloudless  sunshine.  There  were  two  doors  to  the  verandah, 
one  leading  into  my  sitting-room,  and  another  on  to  the 
landing.  Ascending  to  the  latter  was  a  carpetless  stair- 
case which  echoed  noisily  to  every  tread,  and  as  I  sat 
fanning  myself  drowsily  with  a  book  on  my  lap,  I  became 
aware  of  the  dull  regular  thud  of  rigid  wooden  soles 
clumping  up,  and  knew  that  a  Chinaman  was  ascending. 
It  was  a  peculiarly  emphatic,  doggedly  determined  clump, 
clump  up,  not  at  all  like  the  step  of  any  of  our  own  servants. 
I  thought  there  was  the  stiffness  of  age  in  it,  and  when  it 
stopped  an  undue  time  outside  the  closed  door,  I  sup- 
posed my  visitor  was  recovering  his  breath  before  he 
knocked.  He  omitted  the  latter  ceremony  altogether, 
however,  as  being  a  foolish,  "  foreign  devil "  fashion,  per- 
haps, to  which  a  superior  Chinaman  could  not  be  expected 
to  conform,  and,  opening  the  door  at  his  leisure,  looked 
in.  His  eyes  met  mine  in  the  act,  but  his  sallow  face 
might  have  been  a  mask  worn  to  conceal  his  emotions,  so 
perfectly  blank  was  it  of  any  intelligible  expression. 

We  surveyed  each  other  some  seconds  in  silence,  then 
he  suggested  abruptly  in  a  gruff  voice,  uttering  the  words 
without  emphasis,  as  if  they  had  been  let  loose  mechanic- 
ally :  "  Wanshee  butler  ?  " 

Certainly  I  wanted  a  butler,  but  my  first  thought  was, 
"  Not  one  with  your  manners,  my  friend,  nor  with  such  a 
cast  of  countenance."      I  did  not  say  so,  however.     In 


All   MAN.  223 

fact  I  said  nothing,  but  sat  still  and  stared  hard  at  him, 
thereby  causing  his  conscience  to  smite  him  without  in- 
tending it,  for  as  I  continued  to  gaze  he  removed  his  little 
black  silk  cap,  slowly  unwound  his  long  thick  pigtail, 
which  had  been  coiled  round  his  head,  dropped  it  behind 
him,  and  replaced  his  cap.  It  is  disrespectful  for  a  serv- 
ant to  appear  with  his  pigtail  rolled  up,  but  I  could  not 
tell  if  his  coming  so  had  been  insolence  or  inadvertence. 
In  any  case,  however,  I  considered  that  he  had  apologised, 
and  let  it  pass. 

He  had  a  bundle  of  what  looked  like  foreign  *  letters 
in  his  hand,  "  chits  "  of  character  doubtless  from  former 
employers,  and  these  he  handed  to  me  now  without 
further  preliminary.  "  Ah  Man  has  asked  me  to  write 
him  a  recommendation,"  I  read  on  the  first,  "  and  as  I  am 
convinced  that  he  will  bathe  in  my  blood  if  I  refuse,  I 
write  him  this  in  self-defence."  "  This  is  to  certify,"  the 
next  ran,  "  that  Ah  Man  is  the  wickedest  old  scoundrel 
in  China."  "  If  you  have  courage  for  anything  engage 
Ah  Man,  but  not  otherwise,  as  with  him  you  never  know 
what  to  expect,"  I  read  further;  and  yet  another  was 
couched  in  similar  terms. 

Ah  Man  had  watched  me  reading  these  productions. 
*'  Very  good  chit  ?  "  he  suggested  with  some  show  of  self- 
satisfaction  when  I  looked  up. 

"  Remarkable,"  I  answered.  "  There  is  a  kind  of 
agreement  about  them  that  is  convincing." 

"My  stop?"  he  asked. 

I  pursed  my  mouth,  and  shook  my  head. 


*  In  China  everything  that  is  not  Chinese  is  called  foreign. 


224  An   MAN. 

He  turned  imperturbably  to  go,  or  so  I  should  have 
thought  had  I  not  surprised  a  glance  of  his  oblique  brown 
eyes,  a  flash  expressive  of  despair  if  ever  an  eye  expressed 
anything,  or  so  I  feared,  and  I  hesitated. 

"  Wait,  Ah  Man,"  I  said.  "  To-morrow  I  let  you 
know." 

"  Chin  chin,"  he  responded,  taking  his  left  hand  in 
his  right  and  shaking  it  towards  me,  Chinese  fashion. 
"  Chin  chin,"  he  muttered  again  as  he  slowly  closed  the 
door.  Clearly,  it  seemed  to  me,  his  courtesies  depended 
upon  my  good  manners ;  if  I  showed  him  no  considera- 
tion, I  need  not  expect  any. 

My  next  visitor  was  a  colonial  official,  who  arrived  so 
soon  after  Ah  Man  had  retired  that  I  was  sure  they  must 
have  met  on  the  stairs,  and  I  was  right. 

"  What  was  that  old  rascal,  Ah  Man,  doing  here  ?  "  he 
began  immediately. 

"  You  know  him,  then  ?  " 

"  Know  him  ?  I  should  think  so  !  Everybody  knows 
him,  and  no  one  will  have  him  in  their  service.  He's  no- 
torious." 

'^  But  what  has  he  done  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Everything,  I  should  think.  He  made  his  name  and 
became  celebrated  through  taking  advantage  of  an  indis- 
cretion on  the  part  of  one  of  his  masters.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  British  officer,  you  know,  who  thrashes  his 
servants.  He  comes  from  India,  where  the  natives  are 
weakly  and  cannot  retaliate,  and  therefore  it  is  safe  to 
thrash  them.  One  Captain  Guthrie  Brimston,  who  was 
quartered  here,  entertained  the  same  delusion  with  regard 
to  the  Chinese  at  first.     Ah  Man  was  his  servant  and  an- 


AH  MAN.  225 

noyed  him  one  day,  and  he  determined  to  thrash  him. 
He  called  him  in  for  the  purpose,  and  gave  him  fair  warn- 
ing of  his  intention.  'All  light,'*  Ah  Man  responded 
cheerfully.  Then  he  went  to  the  door  and  bolted  it, 
which,  having  accomplished,  he  squared  up  to  Captain 
Guthrie  Brimston,  politely  intimated  that  he  was  ready, 
begged  him  to  come  on,  and  offered  to  wipe  him  '  off  of  a 
face  of  cleation.'  By  that  time,  however.  Captain  Guthrie 
Brimston  had  changed  his  mind ;  but,  unfortunately  for 
him,  Ah  Man,  with  the  tenacity  for  which  his  race  is  dis- 
tinguished, stuck  to  the  point ;  and  it  was  a  poor  satisfac- 
tion which  Captain  Guthrie  Brimston  afterwards  secured 
at  the  police  court." 

"  Ah  Man  is  interesting !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  laughing;  "he  has  distinguished 
himself  in  some  equally  unexpected  way  in  every  house 
he  has  entered  yet." 

"  He  is  decidedly  interesting,"  I  repeated.  "  There  is 
the  charm  of  the  unexpected  in  his  character,  which  is  ir- 
resistible." 

"  Well,  I  warn  you,  if  you  have  anything  to  do  with 
him  you'll  repent  it." 

When  my  visitor  had  gone  I  rang  for  the  boy.  "  Go 
catchee  Ah  Man  chop  chop,"  f  I  said.  "  My  likee  he  for 
butler." 

So  many  original  recommendations  had  been  too  much 
for  me ;  I  was  impatient  to  secure  him,  and  felt  that  if  I 
failed  I  should  have  lost  one  of  the  great  chances  of  my  life. 

*  In  pidgin  English  I  is  substituted  for  r. 
f  Immediately. 


22G  All  MAN. 

Next  day  when  I  came  down  to  breakfast  I  found  be- 
side my  plate  an  exquisite  arrangement  of  pinky  blossom 
in  a  blue  and  white  china  jar  of  quaint  design.  Jar  and 
flowers  together  were  a  work  of  art.  "  Where  did  they 
come  from?"  I  exclaimed. 

"  My  no  savee,"  the  boy  answered  stolidly. 

A  servant  came  round  from  behind  and  handed  me  a 
dish  at  the  same  moment,  and  on  looking  up  in  surprise 
to  see  who  it  was,  for  I  had  not  noticed  another  in  the 
room,  I  recognised  the  sinister  visage  of  Ah  Man,  the  new 
butler ;  but  I  never  dreamt  of  associating  him  with  the 
exquisite  offering  of  flowers. 

Besides  the  butler  and  "  boy,"  who  answers  to  a  foot- 
man at  home,  we  had  a  Larn-pidgin  in  our  household  at 
that  time.  Larn-pidgin  (literally  Learn-business)  is  a 
young  boy  who  comes  to  be  trained  ;  he  gives  his  help  in 
return  for  the  training,  and  does  as  much  damage  as  he  can 
in  the  time.  We  happened  just  then  to  have  a  particu- 
larly interesting  Larn-pidgin.  He  was  a  Christian  by 
profession,  a  thief  by  nature,  devoured  by  curiosity,  and 
garrulous  to  a  degree,  his  favourite  role  being  that  of 
chorus  to  cast  light  on  all  that  was  obscure  in  the  conduct 
of  the  other  members  of  the  establishment.  I  was  his 
audience,  or  rather  his  victim,  for  he  never  spared  me  the 
result  of  his  observations  if  it  pleased  him  to  keep  me  in- 
formed. He  did  not  profess  to  have  any  respect  for  me, 
but  spoke  of  me  habitually  as  the  "  foreign  devil's  "  wife, 
mimicked  my  manners,  and  laughed  unaffectedly  at  my 
dress. 

Larn-pidgin  was  privileged  to  be  present  at  every 
meal,  and  took  advantage  of  the  privilege  more  or  less 


AH   MAN.  227 

regularly.  As  might  have  been  expected,  he  had  come  in 
that  morning  to  study  Ah  Man,  and  iound  the  pursuit  so 
absorbing  that  he  did  not  trouble  himself  to  wait  upon  us, 
but  tacked  about  the  room,  taking  observations  appar- 
ently from  different  points  of  view.  Suddenly  there  was 
a  tremendous  crash  behind  me,  and  boy  and  butler  rolled 
on  the  floor  amidst  much  wreckage  of  plates  and  dishes. 
They  had  been  going  quickly  in  opposite  directions,  but 
had  been  brought  up  short  with  a  jerk,  Larn-pidgin  hav- 
ing managed,  as  they  stood  at  the  side-board  taking  things 
up  to  carry  away,  to  tie  their  pigtails  together.  So  I 
thought  we  might  anticipate  wild  times  of  trouble  be- 
tween him  and  Ah  Man. 

The  next  time  he  had  me  at  his  mercy,  being  alone, 
he  began  about  the  dainty  gift  of  flowers.  Having  been 
brought  up  by  the  missionaries,  he  spoke  much  better 
English  than  the  other  servants. 

"  Wanshee  know  who  kumshaw*  you  them  flowers?" 
he  began.     "  /  savee.     That  Ah  Man." 

"  Why  should  he  give  me  them  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Lord  knows,"  Larn-pidgin  piously  ejaculated. 

In  spite  of  ominous  predictions,  all  went  well  in  the 
household  from  the  time  that  Ah  Man  took  charge  of  it. 
He  was  an  excellent  servant.  There  was  the  occasional 
hubbub  of  a  fierce  dispute  down  in  the  servants'  quarters, 
and  in  looking  over  the  verandah  one  caught  glimpses  of 
Larn-pidgin  fugitive,  and  Ah  Man  with  a  stick  in  hot 
pursuit ;  but  these  were  outdoor  incidents  that  did  not 
affect  the  indoor  comfort  of  our  daily  lives,  or  the  re- 

*  Present. 


228  AH  MAN. 

spectable  decorum  of  our  attendants  when  on  duty.  Most 
of  my  time  was  spent  in  reading,  writing,  and  music,  and 
I  soon  noticed  that  Ah  Man  took  a  curious  interest  in  my 
pursuits.  He  alarmed  me  at  first  by  persistently  dusting 
my  papers,  about  the  arrangement  of  which  I  was  particu- 
lar ;  but  I  soon  found  that  although  he  lingered  long  over 
them,  patting  them  as  if  he  were  petting  them,  he  never 
disturbed  their  order.  My  music,  too,  invariably  brought 
him  upstairs,  and  he  would  loiter  about  listening  as  long 
as  I  played.  Larn-pidgin  had  done  the  same  at  first,  and  I 
had  been  so  glad  to  think  I  was  giving  the  poor  boy 
pleasure  that  in  a  weak  moment  I  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  my  playing. 

"  I  tinkee  awful,"  he  rejoined. 

There  come  crises  in  life,  whether  of  mental  or  physi- 
cal origin,  which  set  in  with  a  sudden  distaste  for  every- 
thing hitherto  habitual.  Interest  goes  out  of  the  old 
pursuits,  joy  from  the  old  pleasures,  life  is  blank  as  a  wall 
without  windows,  and  the  patient  sinks  at  last  utterly 
enervated.  When  one  falls  into  this  phase  in  the  tropics 
the  result  is  apt  to  be  serious.  You  pass  from  an  ener- 
getic attitude  to  an  easy  chair,  from  the  chair  to  a 
couch,  and  then  to  bed,  from  whence  you  will  not  again 
arise  unless  roused  by  some  vitalising  force  from  without. 
It  was  the  hot  weather  when  Ah  Man  came  to  us,  and 
soon  afterwards  I  fell  into  this  state  of  indiiference.  It 
grew  upon  me  gradually  until  all  the  old  occupations 
were  abandoned.  I  was  not  very  observant  at  the  time, 
but  it  has  since  occurred  to  me  that  as  my  health  de- 
clined I  began  to  see  more  and  more  of  Ah  Man.  He 
never  spoke  except  in  answer  to  some  remark  of  mine, 


All  MAN.  229 

and  then  his  replies  consisted  of  a  single  syllabic,  or  even 
a  grunt  if  he  could  make  that  do,  but  he  began  to  hover 
with  his  feather  dusting-brush  in  his  hand  about  my  sit- 
ting-room, and  especially  about  my  writing-table,  at  hours 
that  were  unconscionable  for  dusting,  and  now  I  believe 
that  on  those  occasions  he  came  to  satisfy  himself ;  he 
wanted  to  see  if  I  had  been  able  to  work.  When  I  could 
not  eat  my  breakfast,  he  would  appear  in  the  middle  of 
the  morning  with  a  cup  of  beef-tea,  which  he  would  set 
down  beside  me  silently,  and  if  I  had  not  touched  it  when 
he  returned  he  would  quietly  take  it  away,  and  come 
again  later  with  something  else.  He  never  said  a  word, 
nor  did  I,  except  to  thank  him. 

Larn-pitlgin  was  naturally  very  much  on  the  spot  at 
this  time,  interpreting  in  his  character  of  chorus.  Larn- 
pidgin  was  a  cynic  without  any  conception  of  what  wo 
mean  by  disinterested  affection. 

"  Ah  Man  tink  you  makee  die,"  he  told  me  one  day 
cheerfully,  "  and  he  not  get  'nother  number  one  mis- 
sissee." 

When  I  was  in  the  last  stage  of  the  subtle  disorder, 
and  could  no  longer  get  up,  his  attentions  redoubled.  I 
had  an  English  maid,  but  he  came  into  my  room  as  by 
right  whenever  he  could  frame  a  pretext,  and  watched 
my  face  furtively  as  I  had  seen  him  examine  my  writ- 
ings, as  if  he  would  fain  decipher  the  signs  he  could  not 
comprehend.  He  was  an  artist  in  the  arrangement  of 
flowers,  and  would  bring  me  fresh  ones  almost  every  day, 
each  more  exquisite  than  the  last.  It  was  all  done,  how- 
ever, with  a  singular  gravity.  There  was  never  a  smile 
on  his  face,  never  a  sign  of  any  emotion ;  only  his  eyes 


230  An  MAN. 

showed  the  intelligence  within,  but  even  they  said  no 
more  than  we  see  in  the  eyes  of  animals  when  they  are 
watchful. 

A  friend  of  mine  had  an  amah,*  a  nice  woman,  whom 
she  often  sent  to  me  with  messages  at  this  time.  Ah 
Man  would  show  her  in,  but  he  always  did  it  in  a 
lordly  way,  as  if  he  despised  her.  Larn-pidgin  came  con- 
tinually, waiting  and  watching  doubtless  with  the  deepest 
interest  for  early  symptoms  of  my  dissolution.  On  one 
of  these  occasions  I  had  been  wondering  why  Ah  Man 
was  so  ungracious  to  the  comely  amah,  and  I  asked  Larn- 
pidgin. 

"  Ah  Man  mallied  f  to  her,"  he  grunted  contempt- 
uously, as  if  he  considered  that  being  married  to  a  woman 
was  enough  to  account  for  any  amount  of  ungraciousness. 

The  amah  brought  me  some  unbound  numbers  of  the 
Cornliill  Magazine  one  day,  with  a  note  from  my  friend 
entreating  me  to  try  and  read  the  story,  "  Far  from  the 
Madding  Crowd,"  that  ran  through  them.  She  said  it 
was  by  an  anonymous  writer,  they  thought  George  Eliot, 
and  would  revive  me.  I  took  up  the  first  number  with- 
out the  slightest  interest,  merely  to  please  her,  and  began 
to  read.  I  had  not  looked  at  a  book  for  weeks,  and  found 
it  an  effort  at  first,  but  by  degrees  all  consciousness  of 
strained  attention  wore  off  insensibly.  I  ceased,  as  it 
were,  to  read,  and  began  to  live  in  the  book,  and  I  found 
something  neither  visible  nor  definable,  but  perfectly  per- 
ceptible to  me,  something  vivifying,  worth  having,  worth 

*  Woman  servant. 
\  Married. 


AH  MAN.  231 

using,  and  more,  worth  contemplating  in  another,  a  power 
that  wrought  itself  into  feeling  and  claimed  in  me  a  hum- 
ble kinship. 

After  the  third  number  I  sat  up,  and  asked  for  strong 
tea  and  bread  and  butter.  Kext  day  I  struggled  on  to  a 
couch.  At  the  end  of  a  week  my  brain  was  busy  again, 
and  only  the  state  of  skin  and  bone  to  which  I  had  been 
reduced  remained  to  show  that  I  had  ever  been  ill. 

Ah  Man  watched  my  progress  with  simmering  excite- 
ment. When  I  sent  for  strong  tea,  he  brought  it  himself, 
quite  fussily  for  him.  Later  he  tried  champagne  and  an 
omelette  as  an  experiment  on  his  own  account,  and,  find- 
ing it  eminently  successful,  he  redoubled  his  efforts ;  and 
every  time  he  came  in  he  eyed  the  orange  covers  of  Corn- 
hill  with  undisguised  interest.  At  last,  under  an  elabo- 
rate pretence  of  dusting,  he  managed  to  abstract  one  of 
the  numbers,  and  retired  with  it  to  the  next  room.  From 
where  I  was  lying  I  could  not  see  him  through  the  door, 
but  there  was  a  mirror  on  the  wall  beside  me  which  reflect- 
ed his  subsequent  proceedings  accurately,  to  my  no  small 
edification.  Wben  he  thought  himself  out  of  sight,  the 
dusting-brush  fell  from  his  hand  as  if  he  had  forgotten 
that  he  held  it,  and  he  sat  himself  down  in  my  special 
easiest  chair,  drew  a  pair  of  huge  spectacles  with  tortoise- 
shell  rims  from  his  voluminous  sleeve,  adjusted  them,  and 
then  proceeded  to  turn  the  pages  of  the  magazine  over 
conscientiously  from  beginning  to  end,  looking  up  and 
down  each  carefully  as  if  in  search  of  something,  I  could 
see  that  the  pictures  excited  a  tragic  interest  in  him. 
He  gazed  into  them  close  to,  then  held  them  off  a  little, 
then  raised  them  above  the  level  of  his  eyes  and  looked 


232  AH   MAN. 

up  to  them,  his  face  meanwhile  intently  set,  and  yet  with 
a  show  of  excitement  on  it,  and  a  glow  such  as  samshu 
brings  to  a  Chinaman's  cheeks ;  it  was  as  if  he  had  at 
last  obtained  something  deeply  desired,  and  was  revelling 
in  the  first  ecstasy  of  possession.  He  was  not  left  long 
in  peace  to  enjoy  it,  however,  for  Lam-pidgin  was  in  the 
neighbourhood,  patiently  waiting  till  he  should  be  thor- 
oughly absorbed,  when  he  stole  a  march  on  him  from 
behind,  tied  a  cracker  to  his  pigtail,  which  was  hanging 
down  over  his  back  of  the  chair,  lighted  it  from  a  taper 
he  had  brought  for  the  purpose,  and  retired  with  cautious 
precipitation  to  a  distant  post  of  observation  to  await 
events.  When  the  cracker  exploded,  Ah  Man  bounced 
out  of  the  chair,  and  the  episode  ended,  so  far  as  I  could 
see,  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  evil  one. 

For  the  next  few  months  the  heat  was  excessive.  By 
day  it  beat  down  upon  us  from  a  sky  bare  as  a  lidless  eye 
of  all  solace  of  cloud,  and  at  night  it  arose  from  the  earth 
and  radiated  upwards.  It  seemed  each  day  as  if  we  could 
never  endure  another  without  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  but 
we  lived  on  nevertheless  in  the  hope  that  the  monsoon 
might  change  as  by  a  miracle  earlier  than  usual  and  re- 
lieve us.  The  longing  for  fresh  air  became  such  a  passion 
at  last  that  always  when  I  slept  I  dreamt  it  was  snowing. 
One  day  in  particular  I  remember,  when  the  heat  seemed 
to  come  to  a  climax  ;  a  dark  day  it  was,  too,  with  a  low, 
grey  sky,  but  all  the  more  oppressive  on  that  account. 
Even  the  servants,  methodical  as  they  were,  did  as  little 
as  possible,  and  nobody  else  did  anything  but  lounge  about 
the  house,  too  hot  to  talk,  too  exhausted  to  eat,  but  de- 
voured with  thirst,  and   conscious  all   the  time  of  the 


AH  MAN.  233 

effort  to  endure.  It  might  have  been  supposed,  to  look 
at  us,  that  we  were  all  a  prey  to  a  terrible  suspense,  so 
obviously  were  we  waiting  for  something.  After  dark 
there  was  a  slight  decrease  of  temperature,  and  I  took  my 
weary  self  to  bed  early,  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  relief 
in  sleep.  As  usual  I  dreamt  of  ice  and  snow.  I  was  on 
a  great  ship,  approaching  an  iceberg.  We  were  in  immi- 
nent danger,  and  all  was  confusion.  Officers  and  crew 
were  making  frantic  efforts  to  keep  the  ship  clear  of  the 
ice.  She  did  not  respond,  however,  but  kept  on  her 
course  at  a  fearful  rate,  and  I  held  my  breath,  waiting  for 
the  collision.  It  came  with  a  crash.  The  deck  quivered. 
I  started  up  in  bed.  Ah  Man  was  standing  over  me, 
holding  a  little  saucer  of  oil,  in  which  burnt  some  slender 
strips  of  pith  for  a  wick.  With  the  feeble  light  flickering 
upon  his  sinister  face,  he  looked  grotesque  as  a  bronze  de- 
mon, yet  it  never  occurred  to  me  to  be  afraid  of  him. 

"  What  you  wanshee,  Ah  Man  ?  "  I  demanded. 

He  held  his  head  in  a  listening  attitude  significantly, 
and,  following  his  example,  I  became  aware  of  a  tumult 
in  the  street,  with  cries  and  trampling  as  of  excited 
people. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked. 

"  Dat  earth  hab  catchee  too  muchee  bad  inside,"  he 
answered. 

I  could  not  think  what  he  meant,  but  he  had  hardly 
spoken  before  there  came  an  appalling  uproar ;  it  was  as 
if  a  mighty  engine  were  crashing  along  under  the  house 
and  threatening  to  shake  it  down.  Ko  need  to  ask  an- 
other question,  although  it  was  my  first  experience  of  an 
earthquake.     Ah  Man  was  shivering  nervously. 


234:  AH  MAN. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Get  up,"  he  answered  laconically,  and  at  the  same 
time  he  handed  me  some  garments  that  were  lying  on  a 
chair,  and  held  the  light  while  1  scrambled  into  them. 
Ah  Man  never  stood  upon  ceremony,  but  indeed  I  think 
it  is  hardly  necessary  when  there  are  earthquakes  about. 

A  great  stillness  succeeded  the  shock,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent to  me  as  we  hurried  downstairs  that  only  he  and  I 
and  my  English  maid  were  left  in  the  house ;  every  one 
else  had  deserted  it.  Out  in  the  street,  among  the  howling 
Chinese,  it  was  pandemonium  let  loose.  The  crowd  was 
making  for  an  open  space  on  the  hillside,  and  thither  Ah 
Man  piloted  me  safely.  He  found  me  a  place  among 
some  decent  amahs,  and  then  all  at  once  he  disappeared. 
Two  great  shocks  and  some  slighter  ones  succeeded  each, 
other  during  the  night,  and  always  after  each  the  howls 
of  the  people  were  awful.  In  the  intervals  they  let  off  fire- 
crackers and  burnt  joss-sticks*  to  propitiate  the  demons, 
but  looked  by  the  fitful  flare  and  flash  of  these  like  the 
very  worst  of  demons  themselves.  All  eyes  were  turned 
towards  the  city  as  the  dawn  broke,  and  it  emerged,  as  it 
were,  out  of  darkness.  There  was  little  enough  to  see. 
Some  of  the  buildings  had  fallen  from  the  perpendicular, 
one  here  and  there  had  collapsed  altogether,  great  cracks 
appeared  on  others,  and  roofs  had  fallen  in  ;  but  the 
damage  looked  old  and  accustomed  already  in  the  first 
glow  of  the  sunrise. 

I  made  my  way  back  to  our  house  alone.     It  was  in 
the  part  of  the  town  which  had  suffered  most,  and  was 

*  Joss  is  a  god. 


All   MAN.  235 

cracked  from  top  to  bottom.  I  ascended  the  stairs  nerv- 
ously, and  heard  subdued  voices  muttering  in  my  sitting- 
room,  one  wall  of  which  had  fallen  forward  into  the  ve- 
randah. There  had  been  a  heavy  beam  in  the  ceiling 
above  my  writing-table,  and  this  had  coma  dow^i. 
Several  servants  were  crowded  together  beside  it,  looking 
at  something  lying  on  the  floor,  but  when  they  saw  me 
they  separated  to  let  me  see,  and  there,  beneath  the  beam, 
face  downwards,  grasping  a  bundle  of  papers  in  his  hand, 
but  ghastly  still,  I  recognised  Ah  Man.  He  had  returned 
to  rescue  my  wretched  writings. 

Larn-pidgin  was  there  too,  deeply  interested  in  the 
details.  When  he  saw  me  all  overcome,  he  sidled  up  to 
me  and  explained,  but  less  in  his  habitual  character  of 
chorus  than  in  that  of  unctuous  Christian  convert,  im- 
proving the  occasion.  "  He  tinkee  you  all  same  joss,"  he 
said,  "  dat  Ah  Man  I  He  pay  you  joss-pidgin."  *  The 
obvious  moral,  according  to  Larn-pidgin,  being  that  it 
would  have  been  better  for  Ah  Man  had  he  kept  himself 
from  idols. 

*  Worship. 


THE    END. 


IG 


APPLETONS'    TOWN    AND    COUNTRY   LIBRARY. 

PUBLISHED    SEMIMONTHLY. 

1.  The  Sled  Hammer.     By  Louis  Ulbach. 

2.  Eve.     A  Novel.     By  S.  Baring-Gocld. 

3.  For  Fifteen  Years.     A  Sequel  to  The  Steel  Hammer.     By  L.  Ulbach. 

4.  A  Counsel  of  Perfection.     A  Novel.     By  Lucas  Malet. 

5.  Tlie  Deemaier.     A  Komance.     By  Hall  Caine. 

6.  A  Virginia  Inheritance.     By  Edmund  Pendleton. 

7.  Ninette:  An  Idyll  of  Provence.     By  the  author  of  Vera. 

8.  "  The  Right  Honourable.''''     A  Romance  of  Society  and  Politics.     By 

Justin  McCarthy  and  Mrs.  Camphell-Praed. 

9.  The  Silence  of  Dean  Maidanel.     By  Maxwell  Grey. 

10.  Mrs.  Lorimcr :  A  Study  in  Black  and  White.     By  Lucas  Malet, 

11.  The  Elect  Lady.     By  (teorge  MacDon/.ld. 

12.  The  .Mystery  of  the  '•'Ocean  /StarJ'^     By  W.  Clark  Russell. 
13    Arutocracy.     A  Novel. 

14.  A  Recoiling  Vengeance.     By  Frank  Barrett.     With  Illustrations. 

15.  The  Secret  of  Fontaine-la- Croix.     By  Margaret  Field. 

16.  TJie  Master  of  Rathkelly.     By  Hawley  Smart. 

17.  Donovan:  A  Modern  Englishman.    By  Edna  Lyall.    (Cheap  edition.) 

18.  This  Mortal  Coil.     By  Grant  Allen. 

I'd.  A  Fair  Emigrayit.     By  Rosa  Mulholland. 

20.  The  Apostate.     A  Romance.     By  Ernest  Daudet. 

21.  Raleigh  IFesT'^a^e  ;  or,  Epimenidcs  in  Maine.     By  Helen  K.  Johnson. 

22.  Arius  the  Libyan:    A  Romance  of  the  Primitive  Church. 

23.  Constance,  and  CalboCs  Rival.     By  Julian  Hawthorne. 

24.  We  Two.     By  Edna  Lyall.     (Cheap  edition.) 

25.  A  Dreamer  of  Dreams.     By  the  author  of  Thoth. 

26.  TJie  Ladies'  Gallery.      By  Justin   McCarthy  and   Mrs.  Campbell- 

Praed. 

27.  The  Reproach  of  Annesley.     By  Maxwell  Grey. 

28.  Near  to  Happiness. 

29.  In  the  Wire-Greiss.    By  Louis  Pendleton. 

30.  Lace.     A  Berlin  Romance.     By  Paul  Lindaf. 

31.  American  Coin.     A  Novel.     By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

32.  \Vo)i  by  Waiti7ig.     By  Edna  Lyall. 

33.  7'hc  Sfory  of  Helen  Davcnant.     By  Violet  F*ne. 

34.  The  Light  of  Her  Countenance.     By  H.  H.  Boyesen. 

35.  Mistress   Beatrice   Cope.     By  M.  E.  Le  Clkrc. 

36.  T7ie  Knight-Errayit.     By  Edna  Lyall. 

37.  In  the  Golden  Days.     By  Edna  Lyall. 

38.  Giraldi  ;  or,  The  Curse  of  Love.     By  Ross  George  Derino. 

39.  A  Hardy  Norseman.     By  Edna  Lyall. 

40.  The  Romance  of  Jenny  Ilarlowe,  and  Sketches  of  Maritime  Life.     By 

W.  Clark  Russell. 

41.  Passion's  Slave.     By  Richard  Ashk-King. 

42.  The  Awakening  of  Mary  Fenvick.     By  Beatrice  WniTDY. 

43.  Countess  Ijoreleu.     Translated  from  the  German  of  Rudolf  Menoer. 

44.  Blind  Lone.     By  Wilkie  Collins. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LluRATXY. -{Continued.) 


45.  The  Dean's  Daughter.     By  Sophie  F.  F.  Veitch. 

46.  Counters  Irene.     A  Romance  of  Austrian  Life.     By  J.  Fogertt. 

47.  Robert  Browning's  Irincipal  Shorter  Focms. 

48.  Frozen  HearUi.     By  G.  V\'ebb  Appleton. 

49.  Djambek  the  Georgian.     By  A.  G.  VON  Suttner.    ■ 

50.  Ihe  Craze  of  Chriftian  Engelhart.     By  Henry  Faulkner  Darnell. 

51.  Lai     By  William  A.  Hammond,  M.  D.     (Cheap  edition.) 

52.  Alitte.     A  Novel.     By  Henry  Greville. 

53.  Jood  Avelingh.     A  Dutch  Story.     By  Maarten  Maartens. 

54.  Katy  of  Catoctin.     By  George  Alfred  Townsend. 

55.  Throckmorton.     A  Novel.     By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 

56.  Expatriation.     By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

57.  Geoffrey  Hampstcad.     By  T.  S.  Jarvis. 

58.  Dmitri.     A  Romance  of"  Old  Russia.     By  F.  W.  Bain,  M.  A. 

59.  Fart  of  the  Froperty.     By'BEATRiCE  Whitby. 

60.  Bismarck  in  Frivaie  Life.     By  a  Fellow  Student. 

61.  7n  Low  Relief.     By  Morley  Roberts. 

e>2.  The  Canadians  of  Old.    An  Historical  Romance.    By  Philippe  Gaspk. 

63.  A  Squire  of  Low  Degree.     By  Lily  A.  Long. 

64.  A  Fluttered  Dovecote.     By  George  Manville  Fenn. 

65.  TJie  Nugents  of  Carriconna.     An  Irish  Story.     By  Tigde  Hopkins. 

66.  A  Sensitive  Ftant.     By  E.  and  D.  Gerard. 

67.  Dona  Luz.     By  Juan  Valera.     Translated  by  Mrs.  M.  J.  Serrano. 

68.  Fepita  Ximenez.  By  Juan  Valera.  Translated  by  Mrs,  M.  J.  Serrano. 

69.  The  Primes  and  Tlieir  Neighbors.     Tales   of   Middle   Georgia.     By 

Richard  Malcolm  Johnston. 

70.  TJie  Iron  Game.     By  Henry  F.  Keenan. 

71.  Stories  of  Old  New  Spain.     By  Thomas  A.  Janvier. 

72.  The  Maid  of  Honor.     By  Hon.  Lewis  Wingfield. 

73.  In  the  Heart  of  the  Storm.     By  Maxwell  Grey. 

74.  Consequences.     By  Egerton  Castle. 

75.  The  Three  Miss  Kings.     By  Ada  Cambridge. 

76.  A  Matter  of  Skill.     By  Beatrice  Whitby. 

77.  Maid  Marian^  and  Other  Stories.     By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 

78.  One  Woman's  Way.     By  Edmund  Pendleton. 

79.  A  Merciful  Divorce.     By  F.  W.  Macde. 

80.  Stephen  'EllicotVs  Daughter.     By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 

81.  07ie  Reason  Why.     By  Beatrice  Whitby. 

82.  The  Tragedy  of  Ida  Noble.     By  W.  Clark  Russell. 

83.  7'he  Johnstown  Stage,  and  Other  Storvs.     By  Robert  H.  Fletcher. 

84.  A  Widower  Indeed.     By  Rhoda.  Broughton  and  Elizabeth  Bisland. 

85.  Tlie  Flight  of  the  Shadow.     By  George  MacDonald. 

86.  Love  or  Money.     By  Katharine  Lee. 

87.  Not  All  in  Vain.     By  Ada  Cambridge. 

88.  It  Happened  Yesto-day.     By  Frederick  Marshall. 

89.  My  Guardian.     By  Ada  Cambridge. 

90.  The  Storu  of  Philip  Methuen.     By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell, 

91.  Amethyst :  The  Story  of  a  Beauty.     By  Christabel  R,  Coleridge. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AXD  COUNTRY  LTBRAJIY. -{Continued.) 


92.  Bon  Braullo.     By  Juan  Valera.     Translated  by  Clara  Bell. 

93.  77te  Chronicles  of  Mr.  Bill  WilUatJis.     By  Richard  M.  Johnston. 
91.  A  Queen  of  Curds  and  Cream.     By  Dorothea  Gerard. 

95.  "Zrt  Bella""  and  Others,     By  Egerton  Castle. 

96.  "  December  Roscs.^'     By  Mrs.  Cami'dell-Praed. 

97.  Jean  de  Kerdren.     By  Jeanne  Scuultz. 

98.  Etclka's  Vow.     By  Dorothea  Gerard. 

99.  Cross  Currents.     By  Mary  A.  Dickens. 

100.  His  Life's  Magnet.     By  Theodora  Elmslie. 

101.  Passing  the  Love  of  Women.     Bv  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell, 

102.  In  Old  St.  Stephen's.     By  Jeanie  Drake. 

103.  IVie  Berkelcys  and  Their  Niighbors.     By  Molly  Elliot  Sea  well. 

104.  Mona  Maclean,  Medical  Student.     By  Graham  Travkrs. 

105.  Mrs.  Bligh.     By  Rhoda  Broughtgn. 

106.  A  Stumble  on  the  Threshold.     By  James  Payn. 

107.  Hanging  Moss.     By  Paul  Lindau. 

108.  A  Comedy  of  Elopement.     By  Christian  Reid. 

109.  In  the  Sunt ime  of  her  Youth.     By  Beatrice  Whitby. 

110.  Stories  in  Black  and  White.     By  Thomas  Hardy  and  Others. 
110^.  A7i  Englishman  in  Paris.     Notes  and  Recollections. 

111.  Commander  Mendoza.     Bv  Jlan  Valera. 

112.  Dr.  PauWs  Theory.     By  Mrs   A.  M.  Diehl. 

113.  Children  of  Destiny.     By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 

114.  A  Little  Minx.     By  Ada  Camhridge. 

115.  CapVn  Davy''s  Honeymoon.     By  Hall  Caine. 

116.  The  Voice  of  a  P'loiver.     l?y  E.  Gerard. 

117.  Singularly  Deluded.     By  the  author  of  Idcala. 
lis.  Suspected.     By  Louisa  Stratenus. 

119.  Lucia,  Hugh,  and  Another.     By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 

120.  TTie  Tulor\^  Secret.     By  Victor  Cherbuliez. 

121.  From  the  Five  Rivers.     By  Mrs.  F.  A.  Steel. 

122.  An  Innocent  Impostor,  and  Other  Stories.     By  Maxwell  Grey. 

123.  Idcala.     By  Sarah  Grand. 

124.  A  Comedy  of  Masks.     By  Ernest  Dowson  and  Arthur  Moore. 

125.  Relics.     Bv  Frances  MacNac. 

126.  Dodo:  A  'Detail  of  the  Day.     By  E.  F.  Benson. 

127.  A  Woman  of  Forty.     By  Esme  Stuart, 

128.  Diana  Tempest.     By  ilARY  Cholmondeley. 

129.  The  Recipe  for  Diamojids.     By  C.  J.  Cutcliffe  ITyne. 

130.  Christina  Chard.     By  Mrs.  Camprell-Praed. 

131.  A  Gray  Eye  or  So.     By  Frank  Frankfort  Moore. 

132.  Earlscourt.     By  Alexander  Allardvce. 

133.  A  Marriage  Ceremony.     By  Ada  Cambridge. 

134.  A  Ward  in  Chancery.     By  Mrs.  Alexander. 

135.  Lot  IS.     By  Dorothea  Gerard. 

Each  12iuo.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  75  cents  and  $1.00. 
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between  the  cracks  of  the  flagjjing  of  his  dungeon,  has  passed  definitely  into  the  list  of 
classic  books.  ...  It  has  never  been  more  beautifully  housed  than  in  this  edition, 
with  its  fine  typography,  binding,  and  sympathetic  illustrations." — Philadelphia  Tele- 
graph. 

"  '  Picciola  '  is  an  exquisite  thing,  and  deserves  such  a  setting  as  is  here  given  it." 
— Hartford  Courani. 

"  The  binding  is  both  unique  and  tasteful,  and  the  book  commends  itself  strongly 
as  one  that  should  meet  with  general  favor  in  the  season  of  gift-making." — Boston 
Satxtrday  Evening  Gazette. 

"  Most  beautiful  in  its  clear  type,  cream-laid  paper,  many  attractive  illustrations, 
and  holiday  binding  " — New  York  Observer. 


A 


N  ATTIC  PHILOSOPHER  IN  PARIS  ;  or,  A 

Peep  at  the  World  from  a  Garret.  Being  the  Journal  of  a 
Happy  Man.  By  Emile  Souvestre.  With  numerous  Illus- 
trations.    8vo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

"  A  suitable  holiday  gift  for  a  friend  who  appreciates  refined  literature." — Boston 
Times. 

"  It  possesses  a  charming  simplicity  of  style  that  makes  it  extremely  fascinating, 
while  the  moral  lesson  it  conveys  commends  itself  to  every  heart.  The  work  has 
now  become  a  French  classic.  It  is  beautifully  gotten  up  and  illustrated,  and  is  a 
delight  to  the  eye  as  well  as  to  the  mind  and  heart." — Chicago  Herald. 

"The  influence  of  the  book  is  wholly  good.  The  volume  is  a  particularly  hand- 
some one." — Philadelphia  Telegraph. 

"  It  is  a  classic.  It  has  found  an  appropriate  reliquary.  Faithfully  translated, 
charmingly  illustrated  by  Jean  Claude  with  full-page  pictures,  vignettes  in  the  text, 
and  head  and  tail  pieces,  printed  in  graceful  type  on  handsome  paper,  and  bound  with 
an  art  worthy  of  Matthews,  in  half-cloth,  ornamented  on  the  cover,  it  is  an  exemplary 
book,  fit  to  be  '  a  treasure  for  aye.'  " — iVezv  York  Times. 


T 


HE  STOP  V  OF  COLETTE.     A  new  large-paper 

edition.     With  36  Illustrations.     8vo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.50. 

"  One  of  the  gems  of  the  season.  .  .  .  It  is  the  story  of  the  life  of  young  womanhood 
in  France,  dramatically  told,  with  the  li^ht  and  shade  and  coloring  of  the  genuine 
artist,  and  is  utterly  free  from  that  which  mars  too  many  French  novels.  In  its 
liteiary  finish  it  is  well-nigh  perfect,  indicating  the  hand  of  the  master." — Boston 
Traveller. 

"The  binding  is  exquisite." — Rahester  Union  and  Advertiser. 

"  A  volume  as  pleasant  to  the  eyes  as  the  story  is  witching  to  the  imagination."— 
The  Independent. 

"  One  of  the  handsomest  of  the  books  of  fiction  for  the  holiday  season." — Philadel- 
phia Bulletin. 


New  York:    D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3.  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.   APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
HANDY  VOLUMES   OF   FICTION. 

Each,  lamo,  boards,   with  special  design,  50  cents. 

OURMALIN'S      TIME     CHEQUES.        By   F. 

Anstey,  author  of  *'  Vice  Versa,"  "  The  Giant's  Robe,"  etc. 

"Mr.  Anstey  has  done  nothing  more  original  or  fantastic  with  more  success."— 
The  Nation. 

"  A  curious  conceit  and  very  entertaining  story." — Boston  Advertiser. 

"  Each  cheque  is  good  for  several  laughs." — New  York  Herald. 

"  Certainly  one  of  the  most  diverting  books  of  the  season." — Brooklyn  Times. 

"Exquisitely  printed  and  hown^." —Philadelphia  Times. 


T 


F 


ROM     SHADOW     TO     SUNLIGHT.     By    the 

Marquis  of  Lorne. 

"  In  these  days  of  princely  criticism — that  is  to  say,  criticism  of  princes — it  is  re- 
freshing to  meet  a  really  good  bit  of  aristocratic  hterary  work,  albeit  the  author  is  only 
a  prince-in-!aw.  .  .  .  The  theme  chosen  by  the  Marquis  makes  his  story  attractive  to 
Americans. " — Chicago  Tribune. 

"A  charming  book," — Cincinnati  Enqttirer. 

/J DOTTING    AN   ABANDONED    FARM.     By 
•*^    Kate  Sanborn. 

"A  sunny,  pungent,  humorous  sketch." — Chicago  Times. 

"A  laughable  picture  of  the  grievous  experiences  of  a  young  woman  who  sought 
to  demonstrate  the  idea  that  a  woman  can  faim.  .  .  .  The  drakes  refused  to  lay;  the 
vegetables  refused  to  come  up;  and  the  taxes  would  not  go  down." — Minneajolis 
Tribune. 

"The  book  is  dainty  in  exterior  as  well  as  rich  within;  and  to  those  who  seek 
health,  moral  and  physical,  we  say,  '  Buy  it.'  " — Montreal  Gazette. 

"  If  any  one  wants  an  hour's  entertainment  for  a  warm  sunny  day  on  the  piazza, 
or  a  cold  wet  day  by  the  log-fire,  this  is  the  book  that  will  furnish  it." — New  York 
Observer. 

"Many  is  the  good  laugh  the  reader  will  have  over  its  pages." — Philadelphia 
Ledger. 


o 


N  THE  LAKE  OF  LUCERNE,  and  other  Stories. 

By  Beatrice  Whitby,  author  of  "A  Matter  of  Skill,"  "The 

Awakening  of  Mary  Fenwick,"  etc. 

"  Six  short  stories  carefully  and  conscientiouslj'^  finished,  and  told  with  the  graceful 
ease  of  the  practiced  raconteur." — Literary  Digest. 

"  The  stories  are  pleapantly  told  in  light  and  delicate  vein,  and  are  sure  to  be  ac- 
ceptable to  the  friends  Miss  Whitby  has  already  made  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic."— « 
Philadelphia  Bidletin. 

"Very  dainty,  not  only  in  mechanical  workmanship  but  in  matter  and  manner."— 
Boston  A  dvertiser. 


New  York:    D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  cS^   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
HANDY   VOLUMES   OF   FICTION. 

Each,   i2mo,  flexible   cloth,  with   special   design,  75  cents. 

7^HE    TRANSLATION    OF    A     SAVAGE.      By 
Gilbert  Parker. 

"To  tell  such  a  story  convincingly  a  man  must  have  what  I  call  the  rarest  of 
literary  gifis — the  power  to  condense.  Of  tlie  good  feeling  and  ho:ilthy  wisdom  of  this 
little  tale  others  no  d<nibt  have  spoken  and  will  speak.  But  1  have  chosen  this  techni- 
cal quality  for  praise,  because  in  this  1  think  Mr.  Parker  has  made  the  furthest  adva>  ce 
oil  liis  previous  work.  Indeed,  in  workmanship  he  seems  to  be  improving  faster  than 
any  of  tlie  younger  novelists." — A.  T.  Quiller-Couch,  in  the  Loudon  Spectator. 

HTHE    FAIENCE     VIOLIN.       By   Champfleury. 
-«        Translated  by  W.  H.  Bishop. 

"  The  style  is  happy  throughout,  the  humorous  parts  being  well  calculated  to  bring 
smiles,  while  we  can  hardly  restrain  our  tears  when  the  poor  enthusiast  goes  to  excesses 
that  have  a  touch  of  pathos." — Albany  Tunes-Union. 

n^E  UE  RICHES.     By  FRAN901S  Copper 

"  Delicate  as  an  apple  blossom,  with  its  limp  cover  of  pale  green  and  its  stalk  of 
golden  rod,  is  this  little  volume  containing  two  stories  by  Frangois  Coppee.  The  tales 
are  charmingly  told,  and  their  setting  is  an  artistic  delight." — 1  hiladelphia  Bulletin. 

"The  author  scarcely  had  a  thought  of  sermonizing  his  readers,  bui  each  of  these 
little  stories  presents  a  moral  not  easily  overlooked,  and  whose  iiilluence  Imgcrs  with 
those  who  read  them." — Baltimore  A  vierican. 


A 


TRUTHFUL     WOMAN    IN    SOUTHERN 

CALIF0RNI.4.     By  Kate  Sanborn,  author  of  "Adopting 

an  Abandoned  Farm,"  etc. 

" The  veracious  writer  considers  the  pros  of  the  'glorious  climate'  of  California, 
and  then  she  gives  the  cons.  Decidedly  the  ayes  have  it.  .  .  .  The  book  is  sprightly 
and  amiably  entertaining.  The  descriptions  have  the  true  Sanborn  touch  ot  vitality 
and  humor." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

"Those  who  have  read  Miss  Kate  Sanborn's  book  entitled  'Adopting  an  Aban- 
doned Farm'  will  look  to  her  ne^v  volume  for  vivacity  and  cheerful  conmient.  They 
will  not  be  disappointed,  for  the  little  book  is  readable  from  cover  to  cover." — 1  he 
Outlook. 


A 


BORDER    LEANDER.       By   Howard    Seely, 

author  of  "  A  Nymph  of  the  West,"  etc. 

"  We  confess  to  a  great  liking  for  the  tale  Mr.  Seely  tells.  .  .  .  There  are  pecks  of 
trouble  ere  the  devoted  lovers  secHre  the  tying  of  their  love-knot,  and  Mr.  Seely  de- 
scribes them  all  with  a  Texan  flavor  that  is  refreshing." — N.  Y.  Times. 

"  A  swift,  gay,  dramatic  little  talc,  which  at  once  takes  captive  the  reader's 
sympathy  and  holds  it  without  difficulty  to  tbe  end."  —  Charleston  News  and 
Courier. 

New  York:  U.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


GOOD    BOOKS   FOR   YOUNG    READERS. 

/I  LONG  THE  FLORIDA  REEF.  By  Charles 
'^^  F.  Holder,  joint  author  of  "  Elements  of  Zoology."  With 
numerous  Illustrations. 

•'  The  adventures  of  this  book  do  not  belong  to  the  realm  of  fiction.  They  are  the 
actual  happenings  in  the  life  of  several  boys,  the  book  would  be  just  the  one  to  give 
to  pupils  to  awaken  an  interest  in  natural  history." — New  York  School  Journal. 

"The  reader  will  be  entertained  with  a  series  of  adventures,  but  when  he  is  done 
he  will  find  that  he  has  learned  a  good  deal  about  dancing  cranes,  corals,  waterspouts, 
sharks,  talking  fish,  disappearing  islands,  hurricanes,  turtles,  and  all  sorts  of  wonders 
of  the  earth  and  sea  and  air."— AVw  York  Suu. 

"  As  excellent  a  juvenile  for  the  large  number  of  j'oung  people  who  like  natural 
history  mixed  with  their  boyish  stories  as  has  appeared  this  season." — Chicago  limes. 

JN  THE  BO  YHOOD  OF  LINCOLN.     A  Story  of 
•»■         the  Black  Hawk    War   and  the    Tunker  Schoolmaster.       By 
Hezekiah  Butterworth,  author   of  "  The   Zigzag   Books," 
"  The  Log  School-house  on  the  Columbia,"  etc.     With  12  Illus- 
trations and  colored  Frontispiece. 
"  There  is  great  fascination  in  these  glimpses  of  Lincoln's  early  life,  and  the  artist's 
accompanying  pictures  are  very  clever  and  welcome." — Btocktyn  Times. 

"The  author  presents  facts  in  a  most  attractive  framework  of  fiction,  and  imbues 
the  whole  with  his  peculiar  humor.  The  illustrations  are  numerous  and  of  more  than 
usual  excellence." — New  Haven  Palladium. 

7^HE  BATTLE   OF  NEW   YORK.     By  AVilliam 
O.  Stoddard.      With  11    full-page    Illustrations  and  colored 

Frontispiece. 

"No  living  WTiter  surpasses  William  O.  Stoddard  in  the  art  of  constructing  a  story 
to  hold  the  interest  of  boy  readers." — Philadelphia  hiquirer. 

"  Young  people  who  are  interested  in  the  ever  thrilling  storj'  of  the  great  rebellion 
will  find  in  this  romance  a  wonderfully  graphic  pictuie  of  New  York  in  war  time." — 
Boston  Traveller. 

"  The  description  of  these  terrible  days  and  more  awful  nights  is  very  animated." — 
New  York  Evening  Post. 


E 


NGLISHMAN'S  HAVEN'.     By  W.  J.  Gordon, 

author   of  "The    Captain-General,"    etc.       With   8    full-page 
Illustrations. 

"The  story  of  Louisbourg,  which  because  of  its  position  and  the  consequences  of 
its  fall  is  justly  held  one  of  the  most  notable  of  the  world's  dead  cities.  The  story  is 
admirably  told." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  Full  of  exciting  adventure,  battle  and  siege.  The  hero  is  a  brave  j'oung  English 
boy  who  is  with  the  soldiers  at  the  fort." — Chicago  Times. 

"  Casually  the  youthful  reader  will  get  much  interesting  historical  information." — 
San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

Uniform  binding,  cloth,  silver.     i2mo.     $1.50  each. 
New  York:   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
GOOD  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  READERS. 

OIV  THE  OLD  FRONTIER.  By  William  O. 
Stoddard,  author  of  "  Crowded  Out  o'  Croficld,"  "Little 
Smoke,"  "  The  Battle  of  New  York,"  etc.  With  lo  full-page 
Illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"A  capital  story  of  life  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  .  .  .  The  characters  in- 
troduced really  live  and  talk,  and  the  story  recommends  itself  not  only  to  boys  and 
girls,  but  to  their  parents." — X.   K.  Times. 

"An  exciting  narrative.  Mr.  Stoddard's  stories  of  adventure  are  always  of  the 
thrilling  sort  which  boys  like  most  to  read.  This  tale,  which  relates  to  the  last  raids 
of  the  Iroquois,  is  as  stirring  as  the  best  of  those  which  have  come  from  his  pen." — 
Philadelphia  JEvening  BuUetitt. 

nr^HE  BO  YS  OF  GREEN  WA  V  CO  UR  T.     A  Story 
J-        of  the  Early  Years  of  Washington.      By  Hezekiah  Butter- 
worth,  author  of  "In  the  Boyhood  of  Lincoln,"   "The  Log 
School-house  on  the  Columbia,"     "  The    Zigzag    Books,"    etc. 
With  10  full-page  Illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Mr.  Butterworth  has  written  an  excellent  book,  and  one  that  young  people  will  find 

delightful  reading." — Boston  Beacon. 

"  Skillfully  combinin-^  fact  and  fiction,  he  has  given  us  a  story  historically  instruc- 
tive and  at  the  same  time  entertaining." — Boston  Transcript. 

CYOHN  BOYD'S  ADVENTURES.      By   Thomas 

Jj      W.  Knox,  author  of  "  The  Boy  Travelers,"  etc.     With  12  full- 
page  Illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"Few  modern  authors  write  a  more  interesting  story  of  travel  and  adventure  for 
boys  than  does  Colonel  Knox.  He  always  seems  to  know  just  what  the  boys  want  to 
know,  and  regulates  his  chapters  accordin2;ly.  .  .  .  I'he  whole  story  will  hold  the  close 
attention  of  the  reader." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  The  hero  is  alternately  merchant,  sailor,  mano'-war's-man,  privateer's  man, 
pirate,  and  Algerine  slave.  The  bombardment  of  Tripoli  is  a  brilliant  chapter  of  a 
narrative  of  heroic  deeds." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 


P 


A  UL  JONES.  By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell,  au- 
thor of  "Little  Jarvis,"  "  Mid.shipman  Paulding,"  etc.  With 
8  full-page  Illustrations.  "  Young  Heroes  of  Our  Navy " 
Series.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.00. 

"A  concise,  clear  sketch  of  the  ranking  officer  of  the  Continental  marine,  who  in 
his  day  played  a  large  part,  and  did  it  so  well  as  to  command  the  applause  of  every 
patriotic  American.  To  forget  the  name  of  Paul  Jones  would  be  an  act  of  national 
ingratitude." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  The  writer  is  at  home  on  the  decks  of  the  old-fashioned  craft.  The  atmosphere  is 
thoroughly  salty.  Numerous  illustrations  depict  the  scenes  of  Paul  Jones's  hazardous 
adventures.  So  good  a  sea  story  has  not  been  written  for  a  long  time." — Philadel- 
phia Ledger. 


New  York:    D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  «&  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
"J^IIE  STORY  OF  WASHINGTON.      By  Eliza- 

•^  BETH  Eggleston  Seelye.  Edited  by  Dr.  Edward  Eggleston. 
With  over  lOO  Illustrations  by  AUegra  Eggleston.  A  new  vol- 
ume in  the  "  Delights  of  History  "  Series,  uniform  with  "  The 
Story  of  Columbus."     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 

"  One  of  the  best  accounts  of  the  incidents  of  Washington's  Hfe  for  young  people." 
^Nevj  York  Observer. 

"The  W.ishington  described  is  not  that  of  the  demigod  or  hero  of  the  first  half  of 
this  century,  but  the  man  Washington,  with  his  defects  as  well  as  his  virtues,  his  unat- 
tractive traits  as  well  as  his  pleasing  ones.  .  .  .  There  is  greater  freedom  from  errors 
than  in  more  pretentious  lives." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  illustrations  are  numerous,  and  actually  illustrate,  including  portraits  and 
views,  with  an  occasional  map  and  minor  pictures  suggestive  of  the  habits  and  customs 
of  the  period.  It  is  altogether  an  attractive  and  useful  book,  and  one  that  should  find 
many  readers  among  American  boys  and  girls." — Philadelphia  Titues. 

"  A  good  piece  of  literary  work  presented  in  an  attractive  shape." — A^ew  York 
Tribune. 

"  Will  be  read  with  interest  by  young  and  old.  It  is  told  with  good  taste  and  ac- 
curacy, and  if  the  first  President  loses  some  of  his  mythical  goodness  in  this  story,  the 
real  greatness  of  his  natural  character  stands  out  distinctly,  and  his  example  will  be  all 
the  more  helpful  to  the  boys  and  girls  of  this  generation." — Neiv  York  Churchman. 

"The  book  is  just  what  has  been  needed,  the  story  of  the  life  of  Washington,  as 
well  as  of  his  public  career,  written  in  a  manner  so  interesting  that  one  who  begins 
it  will  finish,  and  so  told  that  it  will  leave  not  the  memory  of  a  few  trivial  anecdotes  by 
which  to  measure  the  man,  but  a  just  and  complete  estimate  of  him.  The  illustrations 
are  so  excellent  as  to  double  the  value  of  the  book  as  it  would  be  without  them." — 
Chicago  T lines. 

n^HE  STORY  OF  COLUMBUS.     By  Elizabeth 

J-  Eggleston  Seelye.  Edited  by  Dr.  Edward  Eggleston.  With 
100  Illustrations  by  Allegra  Eggleston.  "  Delights  of  History  " 
Series.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.75. 

"  A  brief,  popular,  interesting,  and  yet  critical  volume,  just  such  as  we  should  wish 
to  place  in  the  hands  of  a  young  reader.  The  authors  of  this  volume  have  done  their 
best  to  keep  it  on  a  high  plane  of  accuracy  and  conscientious  work  without  losing  sight 
of  their  readers." — Neiv  York  hidepettdent. 

"  In  some  respects  altogether  the  best  book  that  the  Columbus  year  has  brought 
out." — Rochester  Post-Express. 

"A  simple  story  told  in  a  natural  fashion,  and  will  be  foimd  far  more  interesting 
than  many  of  the  more  ambitious  works  on  a  similar  theme."— iV^w  I'ork  Jouj-nal  0/ 
Commerce . 

"  This  is  no  ordinary  work.  It  is  pre-eminently  a  work  of  the  present  time  and  of 
the  future  as  weW."— Boston  Traveller. 

"  Mrs.  Seelye's  book  is  pleasing  in  its  general  effect,  and  reveals  the  results  of 
painstaking  and  conscientious  study." — New  \'ork  Tribune. 

"  A  very  just  account  is  given  of  Columbus,  his  failings  being  neither  concealed  nor 
magnified,  but  his  real  greatness  being  made  plain." — Neiu  York  Examiner. 

"  The  illustrations  are  particularly  well  chosen  and  neatly  executed,  and  they  add 
to  the  general  excellence  of  the  volume." — Neiv  York  Times. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3.  &  5  Bond  Street. 


D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


nrHE    COUNTRY    SCHOOL    IN    NEW    ENG- 

J-  LAND.  By  Clifton  Johnson.  With  60  Illustrations  from 
Photographs  and  Drawings  made  by  the  Author.  Square  8vo. 
Cloth,  gilt  edges,  $2.50. 

"  An  admirable  undertaking  carried  out  in  an  admirable  way.  .  .  .  Mr.  Johnson's 
descriptions  are  vivid  and  lifelike  and  are  full  of  humor,  and  the  illustrations,  mostly 
after  photographs,  give  a  solid  effect  of  realism  to  the  whole  work,  and  are  superbly  re- 
produced. .  .  .  The  definitions  at  the  close  of  this  volume  are  very,  very  funny,  and  yet 
they  are  not  stupid;   they  are  usually  the  result  of  deficient  logic." — Boston  Beacon. 

*' A  charmingly  written  account  of  the  rural  schools  in  this  section  of  the  country. 
It  speaks  of  the  old-fashioned  school  days  of  the  early  quarter  of  this  century,  of  the 
mid  century  schools,  of  the  country  school  of  to-day,  and  of  how  scholars  think  and 
write.  The  style  is  animated  and  picturesque.  ...  It  is  handsomely  printed,  and  is 
interesting  from  its  pretty  cover  to  its  very  last  page." — Boston  Saturday  Evening 
Gazette. 

"  A  unique  piece  of  book-making  that  deserves  to  be  popular.  .  .  .  Prettily  and 
serviceably  bound,  and  well  illustrated." — T/ie  Ckurckman. 

"  The  readers  who  turn  the  leaves  of  this  handsome  book  will  unite  in  saying  the 
author  has  'been  there.'  It  is  no  fancy  sketch,  but  text  and  illustrations  are  both  a 
reality." — Chiccigo  Inter- Ocean. 

"No  one  who  is  familiar  with  the  little  red  schoolhouse  can  look  at  these  pictures 
and  read  these  chapters  without  having  the  mind  recall  the  boyhood  experiences,  and 
the  memory  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  pleas.int  one." — Chicago  Times. 

"  A  superlily  prepared  volume,  which  by  its  reading  matter  and  its  beautiful  illustra- 
tions, so  natural  and  finished,  pleasantly  and  profitably  recall  memories  and  associa- 
tions connected  with  the  very  foundations  of  our  national  greatness." — Netv  York 
Observer. 

"  It  is  a  point  not  yet  decided  whether  the  text  or  illustrations  of  this  '  Country 
School '  give  the  most  pleasure.  Both  are  original,  and  removed  from  the  beaten  track 
of  conventionality." — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

"  One  of  the  finest  and  most  fitting  of  all  the  Chnstmas  books  likely  to  appear." — 
Hart/ord  Titnes. 

y^HE  BRONTES  IN  IRELAND.    By  Dr.  William 

-^  Wright.  With  Portraits  and  numerous  Illustrations.  i2mo. 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

"A  striking  contribution  to  biographical  literature  and  a  significant  confirmation  of 
the  doctrine  of  hereditary  genius  his  been  made  by  Dr.  William  Wright  in  his  wonder- 
fully entertaining  narrative.  .  .  .  The  book  is  admirably  written,  and  is  in  itself  as, 
interesting  as  a  romance.  It  has  a  number  of  valu;^ble  illustrations,  plans,  etc.,  and 
will  be  of  the  most  intense  fascination  to  all  who  have  read  and  thrilled  over  'Jane 
Eyre'  and  'Shirley,'  or  puzzled  over  the  mystery  of  the  wild  and  erratic  Branwell."  — 
Boston  Beacon. 

"Dr.  Wright  has  ta'thfully  traced  the  current  of  Bronte  life  and  thought  back  to 
the  hidden  sources.  The  biography  has  some  surprises  in  store  for  the  re.ider.  It  is 
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monplace. " — Philadelphia  Ledger. 

"  One  of  the  most  curious  pages  which  have  lately  been  added  to  literarj'  history*." 
— Boston  Traveller. 

"  A  new  and  thrilling  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  Bronte  sisters." — Boston  Ad, 
vertiser. 

New  York:    D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,   i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


s 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

HAND-BOOKS   OF   SOCIAL   USAGES. 

OC/AL    ETIQUETTE   OE  NEW   YORK.     Re- 
written and  enlarged.     iSmo.     Cloth,  gilt,  $i.oo. 

Special  pains  have  been  taken  to  make  this  work  represent  accurately 
existing  customs  in  New  York  society.  The  subjects  treated  are  of  visiting 
and  visiting-cards,  giving  and  attending  balls,  receptions,  dinners,  etc., 
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toms, addresses  and  signatures,  and  funeral  customs,  covering  so  far  as 
practicable  all  social  usages. 

T\ON'T ;  or,  Directions  for  avoiding  Improprieties  in 
J--^  Conduct  and  Common  Errors  of  Speech.  By  Censor.  Parch- 
ment-Paper Edition^  square  iSmo,  30  cents.  Vest-Pocket  Edi- 
tion^ cloth,  flexible,  gilt  edges,  red  lines,  30  cents.  Botidoir 
Edition  (with  a  new  chapter  designed  for  young  people),  cloth, 
gilt,  30  cents.     130th  thousand. 

"Don't"  deals  with  manners  at  the  table,  in  the  drawing-room,  and  in 
public,  with  taste  in  dress,  with  personal  habits,  with  common  raistaJces  in 
various  situations  in  life,  and  with  ordinary  errors  of  speech. 

TJniAT   TO  DO.     A  Companion  to  "Don't."     By 

^^    Mrs.  Oliver  Bell  Bunce.     Small  i8mo,  cloth,  gilt,  uniform 

with  Boudoir  Edition  of  '*  Don't,"  30  cents. 

A  dainty  little  book,  containing  helpful  and  practical  explanations  of 
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entertained,  and  sets  forth  the  etiquette  of  engagements  and  marriages,  in- 
troductions and  calls. 

'' f^OOD     EORW     IN     ENGLAND.        By    An 

>->^  American,  resident  in  the  United  Kingdom.     i2mo.     Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"The  raison  d'Stre  of  this  book  is  to  provide  Americans— and  especially  those 
visiting  England — with  a  concise,  comprehensive,  and  comprehensible  hand-book 
which  will  give  them  all  necessary  information  respecting  'how  things  are'  in  Eng- 
land. While  it  deals  w,  ith  subjects  connected  with  all  ranks  and  classes,  it  is  particularly 
intended  to  be  an  exhibit  and  explanation  of  the  ways,  habits,  customs,  and  usages  of 
what  is  known  in  England  as  'high life.'  " — From  the  Preface. 

TTINTS  ABOUT  MEN'S  DRESS:    Right  Prin- 

//-t    ciples   Economically  Applied.      By  a   New  York   Clubman. 

i8mo.     Parchment-paper,  30  cents. 

A  useful  manual,  especially  for  young  men  desirous  of  dressing  eco- 
nomically and  yet  according  to  the  canons  of  good  tctste. 

New  York:    D.  APPLETON  ^,,JC0..  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 

Of  Tf« 

uNivEW*Tt^     15  4  54  1 


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